


Illicit Love

by illicitlylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bottom Louis, Harry Styles is Marcel, Homophobia, M/M, NSFW, Punk!Louis, Top Harry, anxiety tw, eventually, larcel - Freeform, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, loucel - Freeform, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:54:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 210,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illicitlylarry/pseuds/illicitlylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With an anxiety disorder, Marcel Styles tries to get through school hiding behind locked closet doors. He's never known the difference between a house and home until he meets Louis Tomlinson, the boy with that doesn't let himself show the constellations in his eyes or sun in his smile - or only displays these things in front of the one person that cares. He etches black into the layers of his skin and loses himself for his homophobic father and friends with hopes that he'll get the entire world in return. He doesn't know how to find who he is until Marcel shows him the entire world isn't always on a map.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning

Marcel's POV

I make my way to the lunch room and sit down at my usual table in the back, by the windows. The grey sky dulls my weary day even more, as the sun is hidden with an endless layer of smoky clouds. I pull on the bottom of my blazer and shift in my seat, picking up the fork beside my tray to eat in silence. Everyone walks by me and I never have to bother lifting my head to see if I know them, because I don't know anyone. This is my last year of school and I wonder if I'll never have any nice memories of going out with my friends unail three in the morning and laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I don't even know if that happens, but I always hear people talking about it around me so it could be a possibility.

I've been lonely since the day I walked through the front door of this aged brick building, and I've been lonely years before and I'll be alone years after. I'm used to keeping my head down so much I'm pretty sure most people have stopped noticing me, but whenever they do talk, I avoid listening. Their words make my stomach grow heavy because it doesn't matter what they're saying. They never fail to make me miserable.

Some people around me are laughing with people and fitting in and others are fitting in with people that don't fit anywhere, but I stay by myself and watch it all, the idea of comfort seeming so distant it's almost impossible. I should be used to the fact that I'm not going to be apart of the group around me by now, but even if I got the chance I'm sure I wouldn't know what to do about it and mess up the entire opportunity.

Briefly, I hate myself when seeing a couple walk by with their hands laced together, the blonde girl resting her forehead against her boyfriend's neck, as she's too small to reach anywhere else. They're happy, and maybe I want to be able to smile like that, but I don't envy the guy because his girlfriend isn't a boyfriend.

My attention shifts to the entrance of the room when the sound of the archaic door scrapes it's way against the linoleum flooring. I look further away from my book when I hear the group of people laughing, picking out the familiar ring because these people rarely seem to be separated.

Louis is with his friends, flashing an award-winning smile as Sam keeps talking to the people around him. His ivory teeth and rouge lips put everyone else's to shame, no matter what the rest of them say. He sticks out among all of them, so much that I barely look st the rest. Even if each of them radiate beauty that is only denied with jealousy, there's something about Louis that's too mesmerizing to forget.

While they all walk, eyes covetously glance their way at least once before returning to their own friends, as if it's the closest their going to get to that level of popularity. They rarely talk to anyone outside of their group, and the only time they pay me any attention is when they have intentions of embarrassing me in front of everyone.

The first time I saw Louis was a year ago. He was close to catching me gape at him while with his friends, dark hair sweeping messily across his forehead and pink lips curving up into a grin. His eyes were an icy blue that laced chills down my spine and I imagined being good enough to talk to him, but my chest began to compress towards my back when I started walking. My heart pulsed painfully and my palms gathered a layer of sweat, and I had to look away before he got too close. I made the mortifying decision to look away from where I was walking and tripped, falling to my knees. I tried to quickly pick myself up, my cheeks flaming as I stood and looked at all the people that caught my plummet, their expressions surging with signs of amusement. No one helped with my notebooks, and Louis walked right by me. I thought he wouldn't do anything, but since then, I've always wished that was true. When they walked farther away, they thought I couldn't hear, and Louis was the first one to laugh.

I've made an idiot out of myself many times before and after that, but that time is still etched into my memory.

Every time I saw Louis after that, I hated how much I liked him. I didn't think he could be more rude to me but the colour of his eyes were such a deep blue that I wanted to know what it was like to have him watch me without criticism. I hated the crinkles that formed in the corners of his eyes when he laughed and I couldn't stand the sunny resonance of his voice and I wished he would never want me the way I want him. Mostly, I hated how I told myself these lies, want to know what it would be like to have his soft lips against mine, smiling through the kiss and laughing.

I become more comfortable with liking guys the more I try to pick apart my other flaws - even if the odd time I still hate to think about what people would do if they knew. Since I was young, I had friends that talked about fancying girls and teasing girls to get their attention, but I never cared to do any of that. Instead, I'd like hanging around with the boys and laugh with them and tease them to get their attention. I never thought there was anything wrong with it, but once I told one of my friends I didn't fancy any of the girls in my year, he told me all boys are supposed to like girls. After that, I stopped with the teasing and shut myself away from playing with boys like I used to. I didn't understand why people thought it was wrong until I was older, when I had to get changed in front of boys for PE and force my eyes away so I couldn't be attracted to them. I had been moving around from place to place and got more shy as years went on so I never really had friends and no one ever really liked me. If anyone knew I was gay, they'd make sure to tell me how fucked up I was and that liking girls should have been normal. I tried telling myself it was a phase or something for a while and tried liked girls, but that itself became a phase and I gave up trying to force myself to do things.

I bring myself to my feet, my tray still filled with half-eaten food. I have to walk by Louis' usual table to put my tray away and like every day, my heart slams against my chest as I make my way over. I get closer and think everything will go find until I'm brought to my knees, a throbbing sending its way up my legs. The people around me erupt with laughter and my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Everyone is staring and my heart is thrumming and I can't laugh at myself with them because it isn't some joke my friends are pulling on me. Louis' foot sticks out and he chuckles with his friends, accomplished with making me miserable. The prank is adolescent and immature like always, but it would hurt the same if he'd done anything else.

It's familiar the way I stand up with my vision blurring, trying to get away as soon as possible.

My feet involuntarily take me out of the room, going to the toilets because there's never anyone inside and no one feels the need to follow me. This happens so often I'm used to it, but that doesn't subside the clenching in my stomach and my throat constricting as the lump inside of it grows. I screw my eyes shut like it will stop any tears, and no matter how much air I inhale the faces of everyone laughing are burned in my mind and my chest is ablaze every time I tell myself this is temporary. I bite the back of my hand so I can't make any noise, but nothing will make this subside other than time.

I've come up with versions of Louis that like me and I always rely on them to tell myself he'll change, but he'll do something and I'll regret ever thinking there was hope for either of us. I can't change him and even if I changed myself to fit his needs, it probably wouldn't do any good or be worth it.

I pick the crumbs off of my uniform, taking a paper towel from the dispenser and run cold water on it, dabbing the fabric until it's clean. I take off my glasses, my vision blurring slightly and wipe them as well before sliding them back on the bridge of my nose.

My mind still swims endlessly, going back to every other time Louis or one of his friends have done something like that and made sure there were other people around to watch. I stay in the small room, staring at the tiles on the floor and wonder if my head will start pounding when it's filled with too much embarrassment. Even if I can't forget everything that's happened and will happen, I've learned to push every thought away until I'm capable of being seen by other people.

I have to go to my next lesson and pretend nothing happened like I usually do. There will be people snickering and saying things under their breath when I walk by but I have to pretend I don't hear them. I spend the rest of the day pretending I don't hear anything they say and when Louis walks by it takes so much strength to look ahead and away from him. He'll be laughing with his friends anyway so I convince myself it's better this way.

When I get home later that day, I immediately make my way upstairs, my feet creaking against the floorboards before I fall onto my stomach. I sit there, exhaustion beginning to take over my body before I remind myself of how much work I have to do to distract myself from today's events.

I have my books in front of me and still think about everything that happened, my mind flickering to Louis on and off (mostly on) and I'm still on the same page two hours later when there's knocking on my door.

"Marcel?" I hear my mum's voice from the other side of the door, sitting up a bit and opening a textbook to make it look like I was being productive.

"Come in." I say and she lets herself in, smiling softly at me.

Her black hair is pulled up and I can see work tiring her again. Exhaustion is set deep in each of her blue-grey eyes and crow's feet press gently against each corner of them. She's dressed her best as always, as her job always makes sure of that. After meeting the other fashion designers she works with, I now know that they would never wear something out without making sure the colours coordinate and that each piece will compliment the other. The smile across her pink lips is almost enough to make me see past her fatigue, but the bright curve is something I'm also used to, no matter how many hours she's been awake. I still tell her to get some rest every now and then, but she never fails to say that doing what she loves is worth losing a few hours of sleep.

"We're going for dinner again," she tells me. She's been friends with Louis' parents for a few months now, and I pretend to not know about Louis and I'm sure he pretends to not know about me. It makes things easier for both of us, even if my mum insists on bringing me over every time she sees them. "I haven't seen Jo in a while and want you to come with us this time."

"I shouldn't, I have homework to do," I clasp my hands together so I don't fidget with them while saying the white lie.

"You can do your homework afterwards. Come on, you can be out of your uniform and ready for when we leave in an hour."

"I'm really tired, it would be nice to stay home tonight." I have very excuse lined up so I don't have to deal with forcing Louis to put up with me.

"I know you're fine. It'll be good for you to meet some new people, and I'm not letting you argue this time." She insists, talking again before I can make up something else. I'd rather be by myself than around people I don't know, especially when one of whom hates me. "You haven't come out with us in a while and I know you have lessons with Louis. He's in your year and it will be good for you to make a friend before you go to uni."

She's given me this speech before, and I think I dislike it more each time the words are spoken.

Still, she tells me to hurry and closes the door before I have a chance to argue.

I sigh and flop back down on my bed, running my fingers through my hair. It won't take me long to get ready, but it will take me forever to have enough bravery to be around Louis. I've been able to avoid this situation for long enough that I should have known my excuses would run dry, and now I'll have to talk to him and I'm shit at making conversation, especially while I'm aware of how much he dislikes me and how he'll be itching to tell me I'm annoying.

I take a shower to waste some time and try to come up with things that will happen so I don't have to go. I keep expecting my mum to come back up and tell me something came up for work and we won't be able to make it, but she doesn't. I put on a white top and new trousers slowly, hoping Johannah rings her and says they need to change plans because something came up.

Nothing happen and I run my fingers through my curly hair to tame the mess, then adjust my glasses on my nose nervously while I look in the mirror and make sure I'm presentable. The high thread count in my navy dinner jacket makes it smooth around my arms and the lavish fabric cinches at my waist, falling at my hips with the perfect measurements. I tug at the bottom as if it doesn't fit, when it was made to be adjusted to my tall height. My heart pounds against my ribcage when I hear my mum calling me downstairs.

"You look nice," she comments. "We're just waiting for your father."

Just like my mum, my dad has a big, fancy, high paying job that contributes to our unnecessarily huge house, expensive cars and is the reason I can attend school where I do.

My mum went to school for fashion, and after years of struggling to make a living with her degree, she's worked with high-end companies and is now trying to start her own business. It's already doing well as she's been well-known for many years. She loves what she does and she's much happier now that we have the money to afford all the things we have and live comfortably, unlike we used to when my biological father is around. I haven't seen him since I was four, so I don't have much memory to miss him. After all, I now have Robin and I can't think of anyone better to be my dad. He married my mother when she began working in London a while ago, before we moved to a smaller town so I could get better education. He already owned two companies by this time and was born into wealth with a surgeon as a father. I'd never trade my parents for anyone else.

Moving around got difficult as I got older, after realizing everyone had friends from when they were younger and didn't need anyone new around. I grew up in Holmes Chapel with my mum and had one close friend, but when my biological father left us, we were alone and had to move around for jobs back and forth between towns and cities until my mum met Robin when they both had a stable job. Different cities and towns and schools meant more people who made fun of the new kid with glasses, and I'd never tell my parents that because they're happy, but it wasn't the most comforting way to grow up.

When my dad is ready we all head to Louis' house and I'm sure my pulse won't diminish. It only get worse when we pull up to his massume white house and I examine the windows set up symmetrically in the front, some tucked under peaks on the roof. A fence runs along the lower level with a railing on the top, shaping rectangles between each post. It moves towards a staircase, cutting off when it reaches a set of pillars that extend towards the eaves that add to the extravagance. In the middle is a black door and it isn't anything short of what I expect from their wealthy family, it's just like every other house we go to.

Johannah opens the door for us with a kind smile and warm eyes that remind me of Louis'.

"Hello, Anne! It's so nice to see you again." She smiles, giving my mother a hug.

"We've been too busy," My mum tells her, giving her body a tight squeeze. "This is my son, Marcel."

"It's nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much." She says kindly, and I'm not surprised my parents have gushed about me before. "I'm Johannah. Come in and you can meet the family."

I'm not shocked with the paintings hung on the walls when I walk further inside, rich acrylics swiping across each canvas in an abstract way that makes me want to stare at it longer. I think my mum was saying she is involved with an art studio in London and it makes me wonder if any of the art on the walls is hers.

I shiver nervously when we go deeper inside, waiting to see Louis look me up and down like I shouldn't be anywhere near the place he lives. And for once, I would agree with him.

When we walk into the lounge, Louis is standing with his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers beside his father, turning to look at me. His eyes are cold and unforgiving and I regret everything I've done that put me in this situation.

"Troy and Louis, this is Marcel. Marcel, this is Troy and Louis." She introduces and I shake their hands, hoping they can't feel the layer of sweat that has most likely developed by now.

"Nice to meet you," Louis says cautiously. My breath catches in my lungs and I have to force my words out.

"Nice to meet you too." I manage to say, as though we've never seen each other before. I quickly turn to his father and shake his hand firmly, so I don't have to look at Louis. Still, I see a slight hardness in his gaze and tell he's where Louis gets it from. Even the man's smile is chilling.

"Why don't you two go upstairs and get to know each other and we'll call you when dinner is ready?" Johannah suggests and Louis nods, unimpressed. I'm lead upstairs and into what I assume is his bedroom, presented with bare white walls, devoid of any decor. A desk is pushed against one wall and cluttered with schoolwork and a laptop set sideways against it, begging me to straighten it out. The chair in front of it has a bag on top with a pair of trainers that probably smell like they haven't been aired out in weeks. It's very spacious and there's a window across from me that adds a orange tint to the room wit's the sun going down. His bed is in the middle of the wall and a black duvet is messily spread across the soft mattress.

Louis closes the door behind us and sits down on the bed.

"Look," he begins. The tone of his voice already makes me flinch. "Our parents see each other a lot. Which means a lot of family-get-together dinners and more we see each of other, if I don't make some excuse to leave the house. You already know I don't like you so this doesn't mean we're going to be best friends or some shit. You're not going to tell people about this either because I can't have people knowing I have to spend time with someone like you" He speaks harshly, but I didn't expect anything more.

"Uh - okay?"

"And I'm going to play very nice around our parents because if they know what I do at school, the amount of shit I'll get in will be unbelievable. I sure as hell know you wouldn't make that happen." He states.

"N-No." I stammer, wishing I could keep my voice level.

"Good. So we've just met. Nice to meet you. I'm going to go to the toilet until they call us down then were going to pretend we like each other."

He leaves the room too quickly for me to say anything else.

 

Louis' POV

I close the bathroom door quietly and sit on the counter, taking out my phone. Another text from Amanda has popped up on my screen and I don't bother answering her right away.

I don't even know what I'm doing with her anymore. I don't even like her. I've stuck with her because everyone likes us together. My friends, our parents, and even people we don't know would look at us in awe and jealousy. When I first met her, all our friends insisted that we should go out and she was hot so I didn't see why I shouldn't. She fancied me and everyone knew it and it's accomplishing to know that I have the girl every other guy wants.

Marcel seems somewhat normal tonight, and the second he opened his mouth I was prepared for him to say something annoying, but a few blurts of words are enough to tolerate him for one night. I don't exactly know what I expected to hear from him, but I think he's gotten used to be quiet around me because anything that comes out of his mouth is usually mocked.

I reply to Amanda and mindlessly scroll through the feed on my phone, replying to messages from my friends and ignoring people I couldn't be bothered to talk to.

"Louis! Marcel! Dinner!" My mum calls, and I'm already regretting that I agreed to this. I could have snuck away to Sam's for a few hours until Marcel left.

I see him coming out of my room just as I'm coming out and he looks at me briefly before looking away, closing the door behind him. We walk downstairs in silence and I never noticed how tall he is. He always seemed so small and intimidated before. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to knock me over for the shit I say.

I sit down at the table, beside my dad and mum, and Marcel is right across from me with his parents at his sides.

"Louis, I didn't know you had such a nice girlfriend. How's that going?" Anne asks and I'm honestly surprised my mother hasn't said something about her before.

"Did you really have to tell her?" I complain and she laughs. She adores Amanda more than anyone and it mostly makes me ill. She's the daughter my mother has always wished for and the fake visage Amanda puts on for her is angelic compared to what I have to deal with most of the time.

"Amanda's a lovely girl," She defends, and I take a bite of my food so I have a moment to come up with a lie.

"Yeah," I say with a nod, forcing a tight smile. "She's great."

"Well from everything I hear, I'm sure you feel very lucky to have her." Anne replies kindly, and even if I couldn't disagree more, I nod again.

"Are you seeing anyone, Marcel?" My mum asked and his cheeks go red before he shakes his head.

Shocker.

"That's too bad," my dad says, but I'm sure he saw the answer coming too. "Do you play any sports?"

Another shake of the head and I'm sure these two things are enough to make my dad dislike him. When it comes to me, these are the only things he cares about. If I didn't have Amanda and couldn't play football, I'm sure he wouldn't bother to talk to me as much as he does.

"I like football but I've never played really well." Marcel clears his throat a bit, and I recall all the times in PE I've had to endure him stumbling over his own two feet. "I'm alright on FIFA, though."

I don't expect those words to come out of his mouth, and I can't help my grin, but as soon as I realize I'm the only one laughing I wish I never thought it was funny.

"It's a video game," I explain, and they all " _Ohh,"_ softly laughing at Marcel's joke.

"You should join the team," my dad suggests. "The team could use another player."

He hasn't watched the team for over a year and I'm sure he doesn't understand how much we don't need him as another player.

"No, I'm not that good. I just like to kick the ball around in my free time." Mat do says with a shrug, but I never thought he'd agree in the first place. "I'm mostly focusing on my grades to get into a good university." He explains, and I can tell he's hoping to change the subject to things he's actually good at.

"Do you know where you'd like to go?"

"There's a medical school in London I'm hoping to get into." He sate and flashes dimples I was unaware of. He's never been around me smiling, only close to crying.

Everyone is impressed, but of course my dad needs to make this into a competition of the most successful son.

"That's great," he says, already looking at me. "Louis already applied for a football scholarship in London."

"That's wonderful," Anne says softly, looking just as proud. I always wonder if people actually give a shit or will continue to pretend.

"Thanks," I reply with a smile like I've been taught. "I've liked football since primary school, I think, so going to school for it will be great."

I see Marcel smiling at me out of the corner of my eye, but he looks away quickly.

Marcel isn't as annoying as in school during the rest of dinner, which is surprising. I half expect him to start talking about something we learned in maths. If only he could be like that in school, people might actually be able to tolerate him.

Anne gives me an awkward hug at the end of the night and I shake Robin's hand, glad this is done with. I really would rather be anywhere else, even if Marcel wasn't agonizingly terrible.

Marcel looks at me and I'm sure he's about to walk away without saying anything, but my mum is already looking at me strangely like something is going on so I lift my hand onto his shoulder before he can go. I shake his hand and put on my best fake smile.

"It was nice meeting you," I say politely, and already feel my mother smiling at me for being the kind person I'm not. "I'll see you in school."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis doesn't want to change

I go to school that Monday, naïvely thinking Louis will be less of a prick than usual. At the dinner he didn't spit out any hateful words or roll his eyes whenever I opened my mouth. There were no comments on the way I looked or what I was saying or if I was being annoyed, and I had never seen that version of him before. The kind visage made me wish he could act like that around me when we weren't just in front of our parents. It's a long shot, but that won't stop me from wabring him to change.

Walking to my locker, I take down the books I need and a movement catches my eye. I glance to the right and Louis is holding hands with his girlfriend, Amanda. She smiles and looks up at him while they walk, glistening brown eyes and talking to him about something he doesn't seem interested in. Her long brown hair falls past her shoulders, curled in perfect wisps that doesn't frizz or stick out at the top of her head. Her fair skin is clear of any imperfections and she walks with a confidence and boyfriend every other girl envies. Majority of the guys at this school wouldn't mind walking over hot coals for a chance to be with her, and it used to be strange to think that I'd never consider it. I've gotten over that now, and I think I'd walk over those coals if Louis was waiting at the end with a smile and open arms.

Beside her, Louis does his best to nod every few seconds so she doesn't get angry with him for not paying her any attention. He mostly looks annoyed and like he'd rather be anywhere else. Amanda doesn't ever see this, and it seems like no one else in school does. They're too busy chattering about how they wish their relationships were that great, focused on how beautiful the two people are instead of how they treat each other or wonder what goes on when they're alone. The two walk through the corridor and go to class together and sit together at lunch every day and even when they talk to each other, there are people round them wishing they had something just as "special", when there isn't anything special about it. All the other couples at our school do the same thing, yet they've been what every one is jealous over for more than a year and I feel like I'm the only one that notices how unhappy Louis is. I've seen him smile bigger being around anybody else, but for some reason he'd still rather stay with the girl that makes him miserable.

I'm almost frozen when I go unnoticed as he walks paat me. The only thing getting me to move again is the soft breeze of cool air surging past me as he gets farther away.

_"I can't have people knowing I have to spend time with you. Especially you."_

His words repeat themselves in my head constantly, leaving a predominant ache in my chest that reminds me of how he hasn't changed. He's probably too tired to put any effort into my humiliation of the day or genuinely didn't notice me. I think I'd rather stay invisible than have to put up with his constant torment.

The rest of the morning I only see Louis in class, and he doesn't ever pay attention to me. I keep quiet when the teachers ask a question now, aware of the mocking that will follow if I say anything. I know how much it hurts to have a room full of people laughing, and after more than a few times of that happening I never want to do anything to make it happen again. He isn't around during lunch and some of his friends are missing as well, and I don't think much of it until I see them in a group together after. They're directly across the hall from my locker, I grow ill because even if I haven't done anything, that doesn't mean they won't do anything.

Something is mumbled among them and seeing me is enough to make them laugh. I frown and turn to put my things in my locker, when more laughter erupts from everyone else.

My once blue locker is now pink and _I'm a fag_ written across it in red. The scarlet paint drips to the floor like blood and the chemicals makes my head throb painfully. It gets stronger when I move closer, but everything blurs and I wipe my eyes, hoping no one is looking at me when I know everyone is looking at me. My chest tightens with anger, but nothing will overcome the embarrassment. If no one was watching it might be different, but they're all staring and laughing and will be a "remember when" moment some of them will laugh about months later. I don't even know if the paint will come off. I might have to wait for someone to go over it with blue again and go to school seeing this every day. I'll have to deal with people laughing at it every time they walk by and laughing at me when they remember. They won't care to defend me or do anything to help me.

I look away from everyone and hope the laughing gets so loud I'll shrink into nothing. I go to open the locker quickly so no one can see the paint anymore, but the pink paint still leaks through to the other side and streaks a large portion of the metal. I don't bother grabbing what I need before I close it because no one has moved and I don't think anything could be worse than this. They've done stuff like this is front of people before, but never this bad. Then again, it seems like whatever they do gets worse each time.

I turn around again and it's too hard to breathe. My eyes find Louis, who is laughing hard and making the walls of my lungs stick together, preventing an adequate amount of oxygen into them.

He shoots me a grin as if to say _I told you so_ , and my stomach churns painfully. My throat swells and I walk away from everyone, making my way to the toilets to hide myself one of the stalls, just in case someone comes in. It isn't the greatest idea to hide myself in a smaller space, but I'm already gasping for air and gagging as I picture all of their faces and remind myself how I have to go outside and see them all again. A vile taste burns it's way up my throat and falls out of my mouth, making my eyes water. I keep thinking and the vomit keeps scratching it's way up my throat until there's nothing left in my stomach. My body is heavy when I lean back against the stall, and I always wondered what would happen if someone walked in. They won't, but I wouldn't mind hearing someone ask if I'm okay.

I stand up and my knees tremble, almost unable to hold my weight. My head goes fuzzy and my lips tingle when dots shade my vision and momentarily impede my vision. I have to wait to do any walking, my breath still shallow and uneven as I exit the stall. My steps are slow as I make my way to the tap, turning on the water. It pours into my trembling hands and I have the utmost difficulty bringing them to my lips to wash away the taste of vomit. I don't think my head will stop pounding, my body quickly becoming weary.

I'd rather hide from everyone for years that put up with this every day. Being alone is better than being lonely, and having people remind me whenever they can. I start hoping Louis eventually just doesn't give a shit about me. That would mean he would stop and slowly, everyone else would stop. I'd be okay with keeping to myself and I wouldn't have to worry every time I open my front door to leave my house. I wouldn't have to lock myself up in my bedroom and wish I could change every part of me, questioning the reason for my existence.

I struggle pushing my thoughts away as I go to my maths class trying to distract myself my counting the tiles on the floor. I walk in the room and the desks arranged two by two, different then the usual one by one pattern we sat at. I still look down and hope everyone who saw me earlier won't come to class, even if they make up majority of my classes. I take a seat where my usual place would be - away from everyone.

Once everyone gets here, the teacher stands, holding a sheet of paper in her hands

"I've got a new seating plan today that we'll be using for the rest of the semester. I'll be putting you with people you can work with, not people you can talk with, and if the arrangement doesn't work you will be moving somewhere new." She explains, receiving groans from the students that were previously seated by their friends.

"Left side of the room is..." She begins calling out names of students to fill the first six desks, then moves to the next row, then the next. My mind wanders painfully until I'm one of the last five people for the right side of the room, Louis could have been another option if he had shown up for this class, but I can only hope I'll be seated alone.

She calls out the names of the people, starting from the back row and making her way to the front. I'm the last one and I let out a breath of relief. She probably knows how much I'm alone like all the other teachers and adjusts things to accommodate me, pitying my loneliness.

She smiles at me, and the small chatter around the room is interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Louis stumbling in, running his fingers through his dark, messy hair. Everyone turns towards him and he laughs at the sudden attention, but I turn away.

"Louis, you can sit with Marcel," She says and my head snaps up to look at her, then Louis. I want her to correct herself and move someone else because I'm sure she also knows how we never get along.

"What?" Louis asks, and Mrs. Argon smiles and points to the two empty desks in the corner of the room before making eye contact with me.

"You will be sitting here with Marcel for the rest of the semester." She confirms and I can already hear my heart pulsing in my ears. Louis groans and I hear soft giggles of some of our classmates. He sits down in the desk beside mine and I look down at my hands, my face turning a familiar shade of red everyone has seen before. When he sits down I try to ignore his musky scent when I take in a silent breath.

This seating plan won't be going on very long and I'm sure Louis will complain sooner or later about me. He'll get to switch seats to be with anyone other than me and I'll be able to breathe easier again.

The whole class, I can see him not paying attention. It's only out of the corner of my eye, but it looks like he's staring at his hands and running his fingers along his desk. He doesn't look anywhere else and I'm invisible again. Everything that happened at the dinner and the situation with my locker is forgotten and no one reminds me that it ever happened. I wonder if someone caught him, and I barely pay attention the whole class, staring blankly ahead while I question how much he might be hating that I'm so close to him or if I'm sitting weird and what he'll say to all his friends after I leave the room. This class is endless and I almost think the bell stopped working until it rings, Louis shooting out of his desk to get as far away from me as possible. I let him make his distance between us, packing up my bag slowly so I don't have to bump into him and his friends on my way out.

My plan doesn't work, because as soon as I'm about to turn the corner, I hear all of their voices and my name. I stop before they see me, but I wish I kept walking because they would see me and stop talking.

"Mrs. Argon assigned us new seats. I'm sitting next to Marcel." I hear a sharp groan in his statement and I keep quiet, trying to slow my heart beat. They might see me and they'll do something about me eavesdropping.

"The annoying one?" One of them asks, followed by Louis' laugh.

"What other Marcel is there?" Louis asks, and I cringe. This can't be the worst they've said about me, but it's not like I don't spend enough time wondering what those words might be. "If she doesn't switch us back I hope whatever fucked up thing he's got isn't contagious."

Everyone laughs this time, but they keep talking about me and I have to squeeze my eyes shut so my cheeks don't stain themselves with pain. Their voices fade along with their footsteps and I let out a shaky breath, but don't move. I'm alone and my back presses against the wall and my chest still trembles no matter how hard I dig my fingers into my sides.

I think about everything they're probably saying and everything they'll eventually say about me. Like always, I wonder what I change about myself so this doesn't happen, but after a year I'm sure they have their ideas of me etched their minds and nothing I do can make this better. Nothing I do will make me better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only miracles stop wars.

I hate PE. I hate how uncoordinated I am when we have to play sports and I hate how everyone makes sure I know when I mess something up, which is all the time. We do some lessons in the classroom and those are the days I look forward to, whike everyone else dreads them.

I walk into the locker room, staying in the corner away from all the guys as I change out of my uniform and into shorts, keeping my eyes down. Everyone will notice if I look at someone and even if I deny that I'm a fag, I'm a shit liar.

The door opens and I feel the need to cover up as Louis walks in, but he completely ignores me. He acts like I'm not here, gently bumping into me as he walks by then moving on without an apology. The only time he ever pays me attention is when he ridicules me, so I guess I would rather him continue to ignore me than deal with his comments. He keeps talking to Adam, looking distracted while he lifts his shirt over his head. Black and red ink is etched on his skin, scattered in various places. They look like little doodles from far away and I try telling myself it's pretty stupid to get tattoos like that at such a young age, but it's still hard to take my eyes off of him.

I force myself to look down again, getting the rest of my clothing on and lacing up my trainers.

I still don't like the way guys make me feel because I know how everyone will treat me if they ever find out, but I hate the way Louis makes me feel even more. He treats me the worst and that should change how I see him, but I'm sure no matter what he does he will always look like the paradigm of beauty.

"It's dodgeball today," Mr. Walton says, standing in front of him with his too-tight golf shirt tucked into his too-tight shorts.

Louis and Sam smirk, their eyes flickering in my direction.

"We have an even amount of students so there will be even teams. Josh, there, Becca, there..." He goes along the students one by one, pointing to a side of the gymnasium.

I'm last and he points to the right side, where Louis and most of his friends aren't standing. They always manage to end up on the same team, which is never mine. I'm starting to assume Mr. Walton enjoys my embarrassment as much as everyone else.

There are two players on each bench as substitutes and as always, I'm one of them. I don't mind, it gives me more time to not look like an idiot when I try to do something and no one can get mad at me if I'm not doing anything. The game starts and the class throws the foam balls at each other, laughing and cheering when they get a player out. I watch apprehensively, my nerves on edge as I wait for my name to be called. I always hope he will wait another minute so I can keep sitting down and do what I'm good at: watching. I'm not agile or coordinated enough to throw a ball without missing and can picture standing up and tripping over my own two feet.

Mr. Walton calls me on and I feel my heart rate increase as I nod and force myself to stand, walking onto the court.

I'm tall and gawky and nowhere near confident enough to do even attempt doing this properly. I try participating every now and then, throwing a ball to some players if it rolls in front of me, but I always miss. The majority of the time I just like getting out of the way of other people and balls flying at my head.

Louis is called off to substitute and whispers something in Trent's ear. He receives a grin and nod, going over to Mr. Walton to say something else.

Mr. Walton nods and the two leave the room. I stand still and Louis is looking back at me.

Whatever they're going to do, they won't get caught. They usually do things when people aren't around so there isn't any proof if I do end up saying something, but the odd time they'll get caught because they've had no choice but to do something in front of the teachers.

Louis and Sam both have rubber balls in their hands. They look firm and painful and they aren't meant to be thrown at bodies or faces, but they come close enough and my feet don't know how to move. The balls are launched towards me and make contact with my body, causing me to stumble backwards. One hits my stomach, another glides across shoulder and the other in the middle of my face, on my nose. All I hear is laughter and I don't feel anything at first, then the pain comes in a giant wave. My nose throbs and I feel something drip down my lips, to my chin and down my neck. My entire body is covered in momentary goosebumps and my eyes water, but there isn't any tears to cry.

I bring my hands to my face and when I pull them back, blood drips down my fingers and continues to fall from my nose.

Before I can think to much I leave to stop the blood before it gets everywhere. I go back into the change rooms and roll some toilet paper into a bunch, holding it to my red and already swollen nose. At the same time I try to wash the blood rest had dripped all over me, wetting the toilet paper to get it all off. I have to replace the towelettes three times, waiting for the blood to just stop.

It finally does and leaves behind a small red ring of dried blood around my nostrils. I wipe as much of it off as I can without making myself bleed again, but there is still a small red stain in some spots.

I only notice I'm crying when tears start dripping into my palm. I know no one was going to come in, so I don't force myself to stop.

I don't even care about my nose, I can only replay the thought of everyone laughing and no one helping. Every damn time I think things might be okay, shit like this happens. My mind is running every hour of every day, coming up with worst-case scenarios and right now it's that I'll never be okay. It's that I'll be like this through the rest of high school and university.

I cry so hard the physical pain the people outside brought me spreads to my chest and lungs. My ribcage is condensing until I gasp for air and it doesn't stop until I feel numb. The on switch in my brain is stuck and the laughter starts to ring in my ears again. The sound no longer reminds me of happiness and I'm ill just thinking about it.

I quickly clean up my mess, all my surroundings seeming to be moving in slow motion as I do.

I get back into my uniform instead of the clothing I was wearing earlier, leaving the blazer off and drape it over my forearm. I focus on my throbbing nose so the pain distracts me from what happened, and I might be able to say something without choking on air.

I push my hair out of my face and wipe my eyes once more before walking outside to see they are all playing again like nothing happened. I look at everyone pretending like nothing happened, leaving Mr. Walton without questions when he comes back.

"Marcel, what are you doing? Class isn't over." He says, walking over to me.

"I know - It's just-" I pause in the middle of my sentence, about to tell him what Louis did to me, but that would only make it worse. The last time I told someone what he did, I was punched in the face and forced to lie about it. I can't remember the last time I stood up for myself without the fear of people making things worse. I know they don't care about how I feel and they aren't going to, but if I said something to them from the beginning, things might be different.

"What happened to your nose?" He asks and my excuse comes quickly.

"I - I went to the toilet and someone opened the door on it - by accident. I'm just going to go to the nurse. To see if everything's okay."

He looks at me and right through my lie, a crease forming between his thick eyebrows. I've never been good at lying, and I don't think there will come a day I will be good at it, but no one seems to press too many questions when they realise I'm not telling the truth.

He looks down to his watch and shrugs, letting out a sigh, "I'll call her office and let her know you're coming down."

I flash him a small smile that he doesn't notice, saying, "Thanks."

I walk out of the room, my nose still throbbing and I wonder how bad it looks. If Mr. Walton noticed how bad it is, someone else will too.

I make my way to the small office, thinking of song lyrics on my way to distract myself from everything else. Then I count of all the times I've been in this room because of Louis. Almost every time I find a different excuse for what happened, but once again my acting has never been the best.

"Marcel? Mr. Walton said something happened to your nose." Nancy begins. She sees me every time I'm here and the way she smiles with the corners of eyes wrinkling and talks to me like I'm not a freak makes it more comforting.

"Yeah... Someone opened the door on it by accident. I guess I should've watch where I was going." I laugh quietly, forcing my relaxation.

"That's too bad. Take a seat and I'll have a look at it." She says and I sit down on the stool with my jacket in my hands.

"That door must've hit it pretty hard..." She notices, tilting my head from side to side. "Are you sure that's what it was?"

"Yeah," I lie. I'll go alone with this as long as I can. "I just didn't see it coming. I walked into it when it was opened."

"Really?" She questions, nowhere near convinced. "It wasn't Louis or Sam again?"

"It's not a big deal," I try to brush it off, but she sighs and folds her arm across her chest.

"Marcel, this isn't the first time you've been in here because of them. And it won't be the last if you don't do something about it."

I don't know how to tell her that I don't want to tattle on Louis and make him think worse of me, along with all the other students in this school. It sounds childish and immature not to say anything, but I don't have the confidence to do it.

"I'll be fine," is all I reply with.

"But it isn't fine," she argues. "I know that this can't be good for you, and Louis should not be doing this. It's unacceptable. Just because you two have your differences doesn't give him the right to do this."

"I know its wrong, but if I say something he's just going to make everything worse." I explain. Adults always preach about speaking your mind and standing up for yourself, but it's hard when you have no one agreeing with you. It only gives you more of a reason to be quiet, because you convince yourself you're the one doing the wrong thing.

"Marcel, I'm going to have to say something to the administration. And I'm sorry, but it'll be for the best." She informs me, giving me a sympathetic smile.

I agree quietly, not in the mood to argue. Even if I do, she'll go ahead and tell someone anyway.

"But back to the reason you came here." She backtracks, taking another look at my face. "Your nose is going to be fine. It'll take a while for it to feel okay again, but you'll be good."

"Okay. Thank you," I say and she nods, giving me a kind smile before allowing no me to leave.

I go to the library for the rest of the period, using books to distract myself from Louis. Reading usually helps with everything and makes me forget about how shitty things are for a while. It was either this or writing down things that aren't real so I can pretend I don't live my life like this. It's my way of taking about everything without actually having to talk. The only difference is the characters in the books get a better ending when mine only seems to worsen.

I hide behind bookshelves until the bell rings for my next lesson. I don't ever look forward to spending another hour around everyone who will do anything to bug me, but I never have a choice. I don't understand why the kids in the higher years take most of their classes together. If we could be spaced out, I might get a break from Louis every now and then and have room to breathe.

I walk in to the room, a few other students already inside. I take my regular seat in the middle of the room, three seats away from the front. The rest of the students pile through in groups and I keep my head down so no one notices my nose.

Mrs. Argon talks about laws and formulas we'll be needing for our next test, stopping herself multiple times to ask Louis to stop talking to people around him or making inconsiderate jokes.

In the middle of the lecture, she is yet again interrupted, this time by the PA system. She looks up at the speaker disapprovingly, waiting for the secretary's monotonous voice to stop speaking.

"Marcel Styles and Louis Tomlinson, please make your way to the main office."

I looks over at Louis as his friends ooh at his name being called, but he's clearly pissed off as his eyes find mine.

Mrs. Argon gives us permission to leave and we stand to exit the room, closing the door behind us.

"I can't believe you fucking said something." He snaps.

"I didn't," I argue, which is true. I just agreed with what someone else said.

"Yeah right," he scoffs. "I bet you told the goddamn nurse when you left class an hour ago."

"I didn't say anything. She assumed it was you and said she was going to tell the administration."

"Well getting your beloved fucking teachers involved won't do shit." He says as we keep walking. "I'll keep doing this no matter what you say."

"I kind of figured that," I reply and we get to the office, Louis walking ahead of me.

"You two can go into Mr. Reeves' office. He's waiting." The secretary tells us, an emotionless expression on her face.

Louis stays in front and opens the door, walking in without another word.

"Take a seat," Mr. Reeves speaks, gesturing to the two large chairs in front of his desk.

I sit in the one on the right as Louis takes the left. I can't bring myself to make eye contact with either of them and look down to my hands, rubbing them together. He'll notice the redness on my face sooner or later, but I'd rather not comment on it right now.

"I hear that there's been a problem with you two and that it's been going on for quite some time." He starts and I stare at the black name plate on his desk, where _Mr. S. Reeves_ is engraved in gold lettering.

"Well?" He urges, taking an aggravated notice of our silence.

"I don't really think it's that big of a problem." Louis begins, already belittling the situation. "It's just that we don't quite get along and it sometimes interferes with our classes."

I don't get how gets away with this all the time.

"Do you have anything to add, Mr. Styles?" He asks and I finally look up.

"I think the 'problem' interferes with more than just working in our classes. This isn't the first time we've been called down to talk to someone." I inform him, my hands still clasped together in my lap.

"I'm aware of these incidents, and Louis, it seems like you've been the one to cause all of them." He points out, raising his eyebrows as they look at each other.

"I think it takes two to start a fight." Louis answers, not leaving any pause for so much as a blink.

"Really?" I say, looking over at him. "Because I'd really like to know what I ever did to start this fight? Other than - to put it in your words - being a fag?"

His face turns a light shade of red as his anger deepens.

"Have you said this?" Mr. Reeves asks, turning to Louis.

"I might have a few times," he mumbles, running his forefinger along the armrest of his chair. "But I was definitely not the only one. There were other people involved.

He's too quick to blame someone else for this so he won't get into shit for it.

"But I'm sure you were the person who started all of this, am I right?"

"They helped," he denies.

"Okay, well I don't think we're going to get anyone but you two involved just yet, but I'm here to resolve this problem." He tells us. "Now I know your parents both pay a great amount of money for you two to attend this school, and I don't think they'd appreciate it if you were both suspended or even expelled due to this issue. I'm not asking for you two to be friends, but you're almost adults and you should at least be mature about this." He says and I nod in agreement, but know all the damn people at this school only wanting our money. They'll keep us here no matter what because our parents are well-known and well-paid, giving them a good reputation and high wages.

"I'm sure we can manage that," Louis says and I look at him in disbelief.

"So you're okay with just working together in class if necessary and keeping the pranks and bloody noses to the absolute minimum?" He asks.

"We can try our best," Louis assures, flashing the most fake smile I've seen in a while.

"Well I hope this is all settled then. Unless you have anything else to add..."

I shake my head. There is no use in dragging this out any longer. It'll be pointless. Louis will find a way to get out of it without punishment and still get his chance to make me hate getting out of bed every day.

"Alright," he finishes, standing up and opened the door for us. "I hope I don't have to see you two any time soon."

"Me too," I agree and give him a small smile before leaving the office to get back to class.

"I wasn't serious," Louis tells me, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I know," I sigh. "But you do know if you do something else and someone finds out, this whole punishment thing will get worse."

"Then no one will find out."

"Okay-" I stop walking and he does too,m. "What the hell did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing," He laughs, turning around to face me.

"Then why do you keep doing this?"

"It makes going to school here a lot more interesting for everyone."

"Hating me and embarrassing me in front of everyone at this school and making my life miserable is interesting?" I ask, and the smile doesn't diminish from his face.

"Yes, it does."

"When is this going to stop?" I ask.

"I don't think it will."

I do everything I can to stay clam and say, "Well it's getting pretty damn ridiculous."

"And pretty damn funny too," He tells me, letting out another sickening laugh.

"What is it going to take to get you to stop?"

"I'm sure you won't like this answer very much-" He starts, eyes so cold and callous that my spine tingles. "But a goddamn miracle."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A way to get closer.

Marcel's POV

 

I walk into my maths class and sit at my regular seat, listening to the voices around me talking meaninglessly. The seat beside me is still empty when Mrs. Argon stands at the front with a stack of papers in her hand.

"I have an assignment for everyone involving partners, and you all have this class to finish it. If you don't, there won't be a time extension." She says and I look around at everyone that's already talking to the people beside them, working on their booklets when they're handed out.

When Mrs. Argon makes her way to me, her eyes flicker to the empty desk beside me. "Do you mind working alone?" She asks and I shake my head. I would rather be alone then force myself into someone's group when they don't want me around. Mrs. Argon hands be the booklet and I start working on it alone, listening to the chatter of people around me. If I had people that liked me, I know I wouldn't mind the company every now and then. The fact that people don't like me just makes me prefer staying by myself. I hate doing things to make their disapproval worsen.

I'm flipping over to the next page when a dark shadow is cast over my desk and Louis sits beside men Mrs. Argon walks over and slides a blank booklet in front of him. "Try to finish as much as you can, and you can ask Marcel questions if you need to but it has to be finished by the end of today." She tells him, and he nods but takes out a pencil and his calculator, beginning to work on the problems without me.

I find myself fixing my posture and focusing too hard on the way I write as he sits beside me. He's too close to pretend like he isn't here, but he's doing well at acting like he's alone. He looks down at his paper the whole time, scrawling numbers and letters onto the page as he taps on his calculated. I look down at his answers, then back at my page to see he has been doing it wrong. I don't want to bug him about it and get him angry, but some obsessive part of me keeps looking at it and itches to fix it.

I open my mouth, about to say something, but no sound comes out.

_Just say it._

"You're doing it wrong," I spit out, forcing myself not to cringe at my sudden words.

He sighs and rolls his head to the side, looking at me in annoyance. "What?" He asks, seeming like he'd rather ignore me.

"Uh - the questions - you're forgetting some steps." I explain. He sighs, erasing his work to starting over. I turn my paper towards him and show him the mistake, letting him fix it. He then pushes his paper in my direction.

"Like that?"

"Yeah," I confirm and he continues onto the next question before flipping back to the previous ones he completed.

"Wait, is that the same with the other questions?" He asks, turning the page towards me again.

"Yeah - well, some of them. But the other ones you have to do something else," I turn around my booklet and show him and he nods, asking why I did certain things and how I got other answers on the multiple choice. We finish the rest of the questions even if he was more than able to do them himself. I stop myself from stuttering too much or having to go back and explain things differently twenty times. My knee is bouncing and I'm slowing my words, thinking over everything so I don't mess up.

We hand the papers into Mrs. Argon before the end of class and she begins marking them by the time we're sitting back down. Louis decides to look at his phone before the bell rings ten minutes later, when he quickly gets up to leave.

I'm putting my stuff away to leave when Mrs. Argon calls me up to her desk to talk.

"Is everything alright?" I wonder.

"Of course. I was actually going to talk to you about Louis." She informs me and I can hear my heart thrumming in my ears.

"Did something happen?"

"Nothing bad," She assures, flashing me a bright smile. "I finished marking his assignment and he got ninety-six percent."

I don't know how I'm supposed to react.

"Shouldn't you be telling him this?" I ask as she put his paper in front of her.

"Well I was going to tomorrow, but I noticed you helping him out. He's never gotten a mark like this in my class." She informs me, looking like I should be aware of something she's hinting at.

"That's great?" My statement turns into a question and I still don't understand why she's still telling me this.

"So because of this, I'm wondering if you could tutor him in this class at least once a week after school hours. It would really help his grades." She suggests and my eyes widen. I can't see Louis ever agreeing to that. Just the other day he threw things at my body in hope of getting a good laugh from my injuries.

"I don't think that's a very good idea." I quickly object. "Louis and I don't get along."

"I understand that, but my class just started and he's already close to failing. He's going to need the marks to graduate. He's very smart, but he doesn't take the time to learn the material."

"I don't think Louis would agree with this either. When I say we don't get along, we _really_ don't get along." I continue. I know it would help him, but if he wanted help, he'd find someone else.

"Well I will run it by him first, but it won't be for the year. Just until he begins to pass and can keep up his marks." She tells me. I don't know how to say it will take more than a few words for Louis to spend time with me. He would just say no then nothing would happen.

"You can ask him, but I won't be surprised if he says no." I scratch the back of my neck, nervous at the smallest possibility of him saying yes. Spending time with him might be interesting a few weeks ago, but even then I had a hard time being around him for so long. He wouldn't ever care about what he said to me.

"Thank you Marcel. If he agrees, I'll let you know by Monday so you can begin the sessions." I nod and leave the classroom.

I'm not naïve enough to think he'll want to spend time with me, no matter what someone said to him. I prepare myself to hear her say he doesn't want to be around me. Even if I've made up scenarios with Louis suddenly being nice to me, it isn't realistic. It's a fictional version of Louis, not the person that can't stand being around me most of the time.

As I turn away from the class, I plan on going to straight to my next class but I'm stopped when I've barely taken five steps.

"Do you fancy Louis, Marcel?" Sam asks with a laugh, standing in my way. Trent is right beside him and he looks equally content.

"No," I say firmly, trying to push past them to get to my locker. I don't look at them, my eyes flickering around to the people that walk by us.

"I bet you do. Why else would you agree to spend more time with him?"

"I didn't agree to that." I argue, which is basically true. "Louis is going to say no."

"Obviously he will. He knows we wouldn't let it go if he did." Sam snickers and I feel a moment of pity for Louis. I don't know how he called the two people in front of me his friends.

"I know."

"So why couldn't you just say no? I'm sure Mrs. Argon wouldn't have forced you. You seemed pretty willing."

"Just piss off," I say and walk away, embarrassment conquering my emotions.

"Why would we do that?" Trent chuckles, the both of them following.

"Just stop. I don't like him." The words should be true, but they sit heavy on my tongue like lies.

"But you do," He argues, smirking.

"I've never said that."

"You don't need to," Sam says, folding his arms across his chest.

"I don't think I did anything to piss you off, so do you mind leaving?" I ask, but they still follow me all the way to my locker. I put my books inside and close it again, locking it and turning around. I'm trying to walk away again when Sam pulls me back.

"Do you think you're leaving?" They laugh and I feel a jolt of pain in my stomach. I lurch forward and cough, trying to catch my breath. My muscles are tight and I look around for anyone that might have seen the hit. The halls are empty. They've stalled long enough that everyone is in there next classes and probably won't be coming out any time soon.

"Guys, please don't-"

They hit my abdomen again and I groan in pain, trying to push them away but can barely stand straight. I should be used to this by now, and I wonder if the day will come where I'm numb to it.

I want to run anywhere away from here. My heart is racing in panic and it's hard to breathe. There are no windows to classrooms and I wish my locker is closer to one. They push me and I stumble back, almost tripping over my feet. Everything hurts.

Their smiles are sickly and I can't talk or yell for someone so they'll open the doors and see what is happening. I frantically start backing away, feeling my stomach twisting and clenching. It stings and I can feel a bruise already surfacing. My skin swells and my body aches and I hear footsteps behind me. Something is placed in front of my steps, causing me to trip again. This time I fall and my glasses are knocked from my face. My vision goes blurry and I can't stop panicking, waiting for someone to come by. I groan, but the pain doesn't stop.

"Fucking idiot," they keep laughing.

My body aches and my chest is collapsing and I want to get away from this hall and this building and anywhere near these people.

_Stop, stop, stop._

I curl my body, trying to make myself smaller as it would make the pain disappear. It's throbbing and pulsing in the spot they hit me. I try standing, but they hit me and my stomach contracts, intensifying the need to vomit on the dirty floor beneath me.

"Stop," I manage to say, but one of them kick my side, stimulating all my nerves in the worst way possible.

They are mumbling something, but I can't hear. I'm focused on everything that hurts. My vision is blurry and I can only see the things right in front of me and feel the throbbing all over my body.

"He... Fuck off... Deserved it."

There are footsteps walking away and I stop moving, waiting for my body to get used to the pain. I stand up with my mind still running in every direction and my knees weak for a few seconds until I lean against the lockers, trying to breath.

_One, two, three, four, five._

No one has a single no clue how I've ever thought about Louis, but if they did, today would have been nothing. Louis wouldn't look at me unless it was to call me disgusting and the people who barely know who I am and hate me would hate me more. I want someone to know but it can't be anyone near me.

I look at the time and take notice of the forty five minutes that are still left for the lunch period.

_Stop thinking and go home._

 

Louis' POV

I pack up my books quickly, more than happy it's Friday and I get to go home.

"Louis, before you go, do you mind if I ask you something?" Mrs. Argon begins and I nod, though I'd rather get out of this class than sit around and talk a little longer.

"Yeah, sure."

"The assignment you completed with Marcel was a ninety-six."

I look at her wide-eyed.

"What? You're joking." I've never gotten that high on an assignment before. Come to think of it, I've never got that high of a mark on anything in this class, this year and last.

"I'm not." She assures, handing the booklet that has _96%_ circled in red pen in the right hand corner.

"Well that's great," I say with a chuckle, still not believing it.

"I also know that Marcel helped you a bit and hoped that he could tutor you for this class."

I let out a laugh, "Sorry, but I don't think that's a great idea." I say, handing her back the paper. There's no way in hell I'm going to risk everyone knowing I'm around him so much.

"That's what he said at first as well, but it's October and you are nearly failing this class. He could help you begin to pass. He's got the highest mark, and if you fail, you won't graduate." She explains, but I shake my head.

"I still don't think I should do this. I think you know that we don't get along, and spending time together won't help." I deny, trying to think of more excuses so she'll let it go.

"But it would help with your grades. I'm not asking for you two to become friends, just get together at least once a week after school and revise some of the things I taught."

"I don't mean to come of as stuck up or something, but do you realize how badly my friends will think of me if I agree with this?" I ask and as soon as I say the words, I know how stupid and immature it sounds. I won't take it back, though. They'll hate me like they hate Marcel. I don't want to take those chances.

"I'm sure you two could find a way so they wouldn't know, if that's the problem. You could work on weekends at each other's houses." She suggests. "Besides, what's more important: friends you may never see after high school, or your grades that will help you get to a university that will help you have a successful future?"

I look at her and sigh as I over think her words. I know the right answer without even having to think about it, but I want her to be wrong.

"Only until I get everything, then I'm stopping." I agree. We don't even have to do it every week. I'll just go and get help whenever I don't understand this shit. It's not like everyone is going to find out.

"That's all," she agrees. "It won't be as bad as you think it will. Maybe you'll work out some of the problems you've had with each other."

"Doubt it," I mumble, but she ignores it and nods dismissively.

I walk out of the class and into the hallways with only a few students at their lockers, getting their things to go home.

I get in my car and start driving home, not believing I actually agreed to this. Fucking Marcel was going to be annoying the whole goddamn time. I'm sure my parents will be absolutely delighted that I'm actually making an effort to do good in school, but I want some other way to pass.

I can suck it up for a month. I'll only be around him a few times. Just a month and I'll be done and free from everyone nagging me or having to listen to Marcel trying to explain things through rigid nerves and stuttered words.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wishes upon wishes.

Louis' POV

I have no guilt when I watch Sam shoving Marcel to the side, the stacked books in his arms flinging onto the hallway floor. Everyone laughs and walks by as he frantically gets on his knees, trying to collect everything.

Sam comes back to me and I smile at his small prank that gets everyone laughing, and no one helping.

I know I'm not suppose to be doing shit to him, but technically I'm not. It's Sam and I'm only laughing along like everyone else is. Sure his face is red and he's probably embarrassed and he might cry about it later, but it sure as hell won't be my problem. The fun stops when some younger girl comes along and pities him while he pathetically tries picking up everything by himself. Everyone boos and she rolls her eyes, helping Marcel. She picks up his books and hands them to him and he gave her a weak smile, muttering thanks. She nods like it isn't a big deal and they stand, walking in opposite directions. Marcel is coming towards me and I say a few more shitty words to lighten the mood.

"Better tell her you're not into girls," I say as he passes me. His expression flashes into a deeper disappointment and he leaves, ending out brief eye contact.

I grin and wonder how he puts up with our shit. I thought he would've transferred schools by now. This shitty place doesn't seem to have much importance. The lessons and teachers and everything are supposed to be great, but I would have left this place after a month of putting up with everyone.

 

Marcel's POV

I gather myself after the girl I had never seen before helps me collect all the papers I dropped when I fell.

I draw in a deep breath and pass Louis, watching his lips turn up into a smug smirk as he says, "better tell her you're not into girls."

My chest throbs and I look away in humiliation.

I walk to my locker, trying to avoid the mocking states of everyone around me. I practically asked for Sam to trip me. I should've taken two trips with the papers. I still would've fallen, but it wouldn't have taken me so long to pick them all up. I would be away from everyone's laughter sooner and try wouldn't be staring at me for what feels like hours. Sparing a few seconds of no embarrassment would be enough for me.

I hate myself for letting it be too late to stand up for myself. One wrong word I say to them could lead to being beaten and I'll never be able to live with myself knowing I let it happen.

I go to my locker and put everything inside, my eyes burn with tears. I choke them down, refusing to cry. I have class with Louis in five minutes and if he sees me crying or sees that I've been crying, he'll think of me as an even bigger pussy.

I press the heel of my palm to my eyes and take in a sharp breath, ignoring the fact that I'm still shaky and it's still hard to hear things other than my own heartbeat.

I make my way to class and sit in my seat next to Louis. He's at the other side of the room talking to Trent before the lesson starts and when Mrs. Argon tells him to sit down, he's quiet for the rest of the period. He doesn't even look at me for the entire hour, staring straight ahead or down at his hands.

At the end of the day, I'm relieved to no longer be here, anticipating something awful happening again. As soon as I'm about to walk down the hall and out the door, I see Louis walking directly towards me and I prepare myself to hear him spit ugly words at me and laugh when I look away in silence.

"One hour then I'm leaving," he says, and I frown, thinking his words over before I question them.

"What?"

"Tutoring," he reminds me, and the though clicks in when I recall our dreadful conversation just a few days ago. "Mondays and Fridays. It's Monday."

"Oh. Yeah," I say, already counting how many minutes it will be until I'm home without him. I ignore my conscience reminding me he'll be hating every second I'm breathing in his space, walking to the schools large library without speaking a word.

He picks a spot in the room where no one can see us and I don't expect anything more. I'm sure he'd rather hide here than be seen walking with me, but he probably made sure his friends left before he came to find me.

"What do you need help with?" I ask and he opens his book.

"Whatever this shit is that we're learning." He says, looking at our homework like it's in a different language.

"Okay, then," I sigh and get everything of mine open so we can work on it at the same time. "I think we'll just do the first few questions then you'll get it. It's pretty easy."

"It doesn't seem so easy in class," he states.

"Well you don't exactly pay attention in class," I remark, instantly regretting my choice of words when I see him leaning back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "Uh - it's true," I stammer, trying to make something good out of this. "We cover pretty much everything in class so paying attention will probably increase your mark."

"Whatever," he says. "I need you to help me on this for a few weeks, not lecture me on what I'm doing wrong. I get enough of that shit from everyone else."

I should have known my words would offend him, but instead of pressing further on the subject and wonder how else gives him shit about this, I move on to the reason he came here.

"Sure. So for the first question..." I read through it and took it apart in detail, trying to make it as easiest for him as possible, even though I was probably the shittiest of teachers.

The hour seemed to pass by too quickly, but it was the only hour I've ever spent alone with Louis. Not a single hateful comment was said and I didn't leave with bruises on my body or the need to hide myself away. I try to figure out the last time I talked to someone who didn't treat me awfully, excluding my family members because I'm sure they don't count. You're supposed to be nice to family, even if most of those relatives can be pretty awful at times. I realise this is the most I've talked with one person all year, even if it had to do with school and was with someone who couldn't care less about me.

I tell myself today could have been much worse, even Louis leaves the school without a goodbye.

 

Louis' POV

I could barely stand holding myself together during the time I was with Marcel. No, it wasn't as bad as I thought, but I would have been more than relieved to leave early, which unfortunately didn't happen. I kept checking my phone to see how long we had left, but it seemed as though time was getting slower each time I looked at the screen.

To pile maths on top of it all made this even more fucking painful. I hate the subject and don't see how I was recommended into this class or why I actually took it. This is just a load of shit that I'll never need.

High school is just a load of shit that I'll never need.

By the time the hour is finally over, I think I get all my stuff packed quicker than I do when leaving class, getting out of he room.

I don't say a word to Marcel or thank him, and he has to know why. He's annoying and I can't think of a person in this school that actually liked him. One look and I don't see how anyome could possibly stand him.

Parts of me winder if it's strange I don't feel guilty for the shit I did, but other parts thought he deserved it. Then I'm reminded he never really does shit and he's just unlikable. I can't stand being in the same room with him and neither can anyone else.

I make his life fucking miserable most of the time and my conscience tells me to stop but it'll never be enough to make me believe I'm doing anything wrong. It might even help in the long run - letting him know not to mess shit up or be so damn weak all the time. If he doesn't know how to take a punch, someone has to teach him.

 

Marcel's POV

I drive home with the radio playing in the background, humming along quietly as I think of anything but Louis.

I see balloons in the corners of the room with the number 10 on them as soon as I enter my house. Confused, I walk around to see if my parents are home, only finding three people in the kitchen putting appetizers on trays. They look up at me and smile kindly, and I return the gesture before turning to look upstairs,

There are footsteps in my mum's room and I knock lightly before her voice muffles it's way through the cracks of the doors.

"Come in," she says and I step inside to see her standing in front of a full length mirror.

She has a mannequin off to the side of the room with a half-finished project she's been working on. The adorned fabric is a deep charcoal shade with six narrow buttons running down the middle in sets of two. The shoulders aren't sewn yet and the bottom is probably wider than intended, falling past the end of the muscular model. There's a table next to it with more buttons, strips of fabric, and rolls of thread with needles.

"Who's tenth birthday is it?" I ask with and she laughs, stepping out of a pair of heels.

"It's the ten year anniversary, remember? Were having a party."

"You have a party for everything," I say, sitting on the edge of their neatly made bed.

"What's life without a party every now and then?" She asks with a smile, walking into her large closet.

"Every now and then? More like every week." I chuckle and she walks out with a bag on a hook, most likely with a new dress she bought for the occasion.

"It'll be fun."

"Hours around twenty adults? Sounds exquisitely entertaining." I comment, and she rolls her eyes while she hangs up the bag and unzips it.

"There will be a few younger guys there you could talk with. I think Louis is going to come with Johannah and Troy as well."

"You invited Louis?" I ask, my body freezing at the though front having to spend hours with him while our parents are talking and having fun.

"Well I invited his family," she explains, examining the dress in front of her, smoothing out the elegant fabric with her hand. She then walk across the room to a white chest of drawers, unlocking the jewellery box and carefully looking through it.

"Oh. Okay," I say, still hating the fact that he pretends to like me in front of our parents when he can't stand me.

"Your father is going to be home in about an hour and everything should be set up by six. Guests are coming at around six-thirty and I think you should wear the shirt I got you with those black trousers from last week." She says, but I still have to remember which ones she's talking about. She brings home dress shirts and other expensive clothing from work all the time, especially proud of the things she's worked hard on. "Oh - before you go, can you try this on for me?" She asks, rushing over to the trench coat I was just looking at. "I want to get the length right and the mannequin is too short."

She sometimes gets me to help her work on things, standing still or spinning in circles wearing the designer clothing while she cuts and sews and folds the piece. She insists I'm the same size as the models and I've lost count of all the times she's said I should model for her. It's something I'll never do outside of home with more than her or Robin around. One time she had colleagues over to work on some stuff and I was mortified when they all stared at me for hours on end. It was never her intention to embarrass me, but I'll never be model material and I'll never think people aren't judging me when they stare at me like that.

I agree and pull it over my shoulders gently, letting her adjust everything. She kneels lower to pin up the bottom, getting me to stang in front of her mirror. I think it looks odd on me - hugging at my waist that isn't model-thin. She pulls the belt around my waist and I try not to be obvious about sucking in my stomach. She pins the shoulders quickly and asks me if the bottom should slim down more, and I agree, letting her pin that before she lets me go.

I do my homework until six, when I start getting ready and finish when I hear people coming inside. I waste time trying to fix my hair and changing the way my shirt looks, doing everything to stall so I can stay upstairs, away from everyone. I'd change a lot of things about myself if I could, and I try not to think about all those things before I go downstairs.

My heart is thumping in my chest and I nervously look at all the guests enjoying themselves. Most of them I've met at other events like this, and I walk around shyly saying hello to everyone.

Most of them were from my dad's workplace at one of his buildings in town, and my mum's friends sometimes come in from London for these events. Every time they see her she seemed to be very popular.

Everyone's parents at school had to be making at least a million a year. I always felt bad they spent so much on me, but at the same time I knew that it would barely make a dent in their paycheque.

I'm walking around like I have something to do when Louis' mum and dad walked through the door. I relax when I don't that Louis, but the second he walked in after them my heart is thrumming.

He's wearing a white shirt and a navy blue jacket - so dark it might look black in certain lighting. There are gold buttons running down the middle, catching the light like stars. It makes his eyes look bright, but no matter the colour he still looks around at all the people like he doesn't want to be here and I wish I stayed upstairs. He makes slight eye contact with me before looking away and I draw in a breath, walking in the opposite direction.

When I think I'll go without talking to him, my mum stops me to go back.

"Why don't you come say hi?" She says, placing her hand on my back to lead me towards them, not giving me a choice.

Louis gives me a tight smile.

"Hey. Nice to see you again," he greets, shaking my hand politely, but his hand is stiff.

"You too," I say, my eyes darting away as our parents begin talking to each other, Johannah complimenting my mum's dress, receiving an appreciative thank you.

"Why don't you boys go get something to eat? I'm sure you're the only two seventeen year olds here, so I won't mind if you go upstairs for a while." My mum says. "But I might have to pull you back down if you keep away the whole night."

My mind flickers on the fact that Louis is still sixteen, trying to convince myself I only remember his birthday because it's near Christmas.

"I think we'll be good down here," I tell her, saving Louis the trouble of being alone with me until his parents leave.

She nods and we head off in silence, grabbing small plates of food that look more like an art arrangement than an actual meal.

We then walk to the lounge together, where only a few other people were, and sit down on the sofa, a noticeable gap between us.

The television us on and I stare blankly at the muted programme, wishing I could say anything to Louis so this isn't so awkward. My throat is dry and I can barely swallow the food in front of me.

"Marcel, is that you?" A familiar voice says and I look up to see my aunt's curly blonde hair and blue eyes. She wears a simple purple dress and has a delicate necklace on, a small diamond pendant hanging from the silver chain.

She has a big smile on her rotund face and I stand up, placing my food on the small table in front of Louis and give her a hug, thankful for the small escape. "It's been what now - a year?"

"About so," I say and pulled back, just to feel her soft hands touch my face.

"I swear, you get more handsome every time I see you." She gushes and my face burns red. "And your dimples. Oh my, I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend."

I can practically feel Louis laughing in his head at the absurd remark.

"Well thank you," I say with a chuckle, unsure of how I should deny her surprise.

"Who's this?" She asks, acknowledging Louis. He stands up at the mention of his name, smiling like he doesn't hate me.

"This is my-" I'm about to say 'friend' but I don't think that is anywhere near what we are. "-Louis. This is Louis. We go to school together."

"Oh," She says, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," he replies, flashing her a familiar charming smile that's enough to make anyone fall for him.

"So how long have you known each other?" She asks.

"A little over a year," I say, even though that whole time he's thought of me as some fag.

"Really? You must be pretty good friends," she comments and Louis didn't hesitate to answer before me.

"I guess you could say that," he tells her and my chest tightens hearing the thick lie.

"Do your parents know each other?"

"Yeah, they're pretty close too," he answers and I let them talk while I stay quiet, nodding and smiling.

"Well it was really nice seeing you again, Marcel. And meeting you, Louis. But I was supposed to be finding your parents now so I'll talk to you soon." She says and I nod, letting her leave.

"I'm going to grab something upstairs," I tell Louis, hoping to find a moment to escape. "I'll be back in a bit."

He nods and I let out a deep breath when I turn around, making my way to my bedroom.

I only allow myself to stay up there for ten minutes, sitting on my bed and breathing deeply to stop my hands from shaking. There's so many people and Louis keeps pretending to like me. I've never had many friends and all my family members know that, so next time he's not around they'll be asking where he is and I won't be able to say he's always hated me.

Ten minutes are over in ten seconds and I have to force myself to go back downstairs.

The moments alone don't do anything to clam me down, and I'm still shaky when everyone is around me again. I don't want to look for Louis, but I don't want to be alone. I turn the corner quickly and I immediately run into someone. They let out a gasp and something cracks loudly beneath me I'm immediately apologising and looking around to see if anyone saw.

"I'm so sorry," I breathe, looking down to see its my mum and not someone I don't know. "I wasn't looking where I was going and-"

"It's okay, it's only a plate," she laughs, kneeling to pick up the white broken pieces. "You just scared me."

"I'm sorry," I apologize again, and she shakes her head. "I can clean it up, it was my fault."

"It's fine," she says, still placing them in her hand.

"Anne, you should go back. I'll help him." I hear a voice say and look up to see Louis walking over.

She smiles at him and nods, asking if he's sure it's alright. He eventually convinces her, gently taking the pieces of glass from her hand. He's easily made her adore him, but I wonder what she would say if she found out what he did when she wasn't around.

She leaves us and he bends down with a sigh.

"Walk much?" He asks, nowhere near joking.

"I'm really not in the mood for this," I tell him. My fingers are trembling and I'm sure he notices.

"Well honestly, you should have been watching where you were going." He mutters as we pick up the last few pieces.

"Why are you doing this now?" I grumble, getting the last few bits before standing up.

"It's always like this, that's just the way it is." He replies and I try to keep my face straight as we walk to throw away the pieces.

"The way it is?" I repeat, my voice hushed. "So you just make my life miserable because that's how it's suppose to be?"

He hesitates before shrugging, emotionless, "It sounds a little rude, but yeah." He confirms.

"It doesn't sound rude, you're just like that."

I watch his jaw clench and regret my words already.

"Watch what you fucking say," he warns.

"What? I can't say one little thing the both of us know is true when you get to say shit to me every god damn day? That makes no sense!" I thope my hands up on frustration.

"Well if you weren't so god damn... You-" he gestures to all of me, "Then maybe things wouldn't be like this."

"Oh, sorry." I snap. "I'll just go and fix everything about myself so everyone can like me."

"Thanks for understanding," He smirks and these comments are probably routine now.

"What the hell did I do?" I ask, needing an answer. "I just show up to school not saying a word to you but you still do this shit to me then I actually defend you so you don't get into trouble with the school board yet you still hate me! And you can act like you like me here, but you barely want anything to do with me at school so I don't see why you can't at least pretend to like me in public. What is it going to take?"

I don't know how loud my voice is, but I know it startles Louis when his eyes get wider.

"Nothing's going to fucking stop this. It's just the way it is and you can stop being a pussy about it."

"I'm not being a pussy about it." I spit, tossing the glass pieces in the bin. "Imagine if you were me and everyone at school hated you for no damn reason, or a reason no one would tell you. What would you do?"

His eyes glower and he doesn't have to think long about his answer, "I'd wish I wasn't you." He sneers and walks away leaving me to wish I wasn't me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is different when they're alone.

September has ended and it's the first of October, which means the school is covered in cheesy _Happy Halloween_ posters made by the students and I will be made fun of more than I am the rest of the year.

The pranks will get worse, the costume jokes will set in and I'll start wishing I don't have to go to school more than I already do.

I walk down the hallway looking at the small mark of mud on my black shoes until I go to my locker, opening it up.

"I have three shitty assignments I need handed in by tomorrow. If I don't hand them in, I can't play Friday's game so can we go to the library after school?" A voice says and I jump slightly, looking to my left to see Louis standing beside me.

The tutoring has been going alright. It's basically me just sitting at the same table with him while we do homework. He won't ever ask for my help unless he was completely lost on a question. I'll look over at his paper every now and then as he scrawls numbers and letters across the page, and most of his answers were wrong, but I don't like saying anything. I had thought multiple times to check in with him as ask if he needed help, but every time I did, he'd say he was fine through gritted teeth.

I got the hint quickly and stayed quiet unless he spoke first.

"Yeah. Sure. I'll meet you there." I say and he nods, walking away without another word. I'm used to it at this point.

I watch him for a second too long when he turns down the hall into a class, trying to focus on the things I can't stand about him instead of how good he looks today, along with every other day.

The rest of the day I stare at the clock's hands slowly circulating, not knowing if I want them to speed up so I can see Louis sooner or slow down so I don't have to see him at all.

The bell rings soon and I'm now wishing the clock slowed down when I go to the library. I don't see Louis anywhere, but he's always about five or ten minutes late so I find our regular table in the back and sit down, starting tonight's homework before he gets here.

I wait twenty minutes, finished my homework and am on my phone, convinced he bailed out. I'm not surprised, but I don't get why he asked me if he wasn't going to show up. I pack everything up, about to leave with more anger and embarrassment for waiting for so long when I hear footsteps and Louis sits down, letting out a small breath.

He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows.

"You going somewhere?"

I sit back down.

"Not anymore," I reply quietly as he opens his books. I should have left, but he'd end up getting mad again.

"I know you usually just do maths shit with me, but I have some assignments for biology too."

"That's fine," I agree and he pulls out the papers, handing them to me.

"I honestly have no fucking clue what to do." He says, running his fingers through his dark hair.

I read over the questions he gives me and realize two of them were due last month.

"What do you find easier? Maths or biology?" I ask.

"Maths."

"Then we're starting with biology," I state and he looks at me strangely. "I usually keep the easier one for last. It gets done faster."

"Fine," he sighs, not making eye contact with me. "I just need them done by tomorrow."

"Okay," I say. He sounds like he's waiting for me to do it for him, but there's no way in hell I'd let him. I always show him how then leave him be so he can try, but it seems like he thinks I'll get lazy and just do it.

I put the biology questions in front of me and read them over again.

"Can we do that one later? I don't even get it." He complains.

"We should get it done and over with." I say, looking over the question. " _Describe the entire process of an action potential in your own words_."

He groans, "I don't even fucking get what this is."

I crack a small smile, "Action potential. The potential of an action. The potential of an action of your neurons." I simplify and he gives me that are-you-serious-look.

"It's actually really easy," I say, still smiling. His expression is heavy and makes me wary and I'm probably making a fool out of myself to put him in a good mood, but I don't stop either. "Open your book to the first chapter."

He obliges and the binding of the book cracks from lack of use, only stopping when it's open.

"When was the last time you opened that book?" I ask.

"Two seconds ago," he admits and I bite my lip, forcing myself not to smile at his stubbornness.

"Okay, now I want you to read the whole chapter and write notes on a few things."

"You're fucking joking."

"No," I say. "If you don't know what you're suppose to learn in the chapter, then how are you going to answer the questions?"

He sighs, shrugging helplessly.

"Fine," he agrees, beginning to read, stopping when I male him write something important down that wI'll help him.

He finishes a good twenty minutes later, through a few questions of asking about words he didn't know and I had to explain to him.

"Do you get it now?" I ask and he looks down at the lines paper with jot notes and words on it he had written.

He shrugs, "Kind of," he says.

"'Kind of' is much better than not at all." I tell him, getting a sense of accomplishment for being right. "Now look at all your notes and then the question."

It takes him only ten minutes to realize he read everything he needs to know.

The first question is the easiest, but as the page goes on he gets more frustrated that the questions need more thinking and less of having the answers right in front of you.

It takes us an hour, but he finally finishes and I'm proud that I'm actually helping him instead of supervision.

"Library closing in a half an hour, boys." Mrs. Richards tells us, peeking her head around the corner. I nod with a small smile, but have so much more stuff to do and at this pace, it's going to take more than a half and hour

"How the hell are we going to finish the other two in thirty minutes?" He asks.

"We're not," I say, letting out a deep breath. "We'll just go home and finish it."

"But-"

"You need it done by tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we can go to my place and finish them." I suggest and he doesn't seem to care, starting to pack up his things.

"I'll just meet you there."

I agree and we don't talk as we walk into the lonely car park, only a few of the teacher's vehicles in view.

We part silent ways and I drive home with the radio quietly playing to a song I don't know. When I get home, it doesn't take Louis long to get in behind me. While I wait, I'm almost convinced he isn't going to show up, and I almost hope he doesn't so he doesn't have to put up with me the rest of the night. He knocks a few minutes later and I let him in with a sigh, telling myself to be proud of him for wanting to get his marks up and trying hard - even if he hates me.

I lead him into the kitchen and he takes a seat, pulling out his things again.

"Do you want something to eat? Or drink?" I ask politely, as it's getting late and I'm starving after not eating since lunch. I don't want to eat alone in front of him either.

He shrugs, beginning to take off his jacket then nods. "Yeah, I'm actually really hungry." He says and I open my fridge to find nothing inside, pretending to look through as if we have anything.

I should have known there wouldn't be any food before I asked him. My parents never have time to get food, so I usually have to get it myself or wait for them to have a few days off.

"I'll just order pizza. Do you care about the toppings?"

"Whatever you like, I'm not picky," he answers. "You should get some drinks too."

"Sure," I agree, trying not to freak out about the phone call I have to make and instead think about how Louis is talking to me like he doesn't hate me. I call the nearest pizza place to order a medium pizza with drinks, stuttering through my words and a thumping heart. I have to tell the guy twice, but Louis doesn't stare at me long when I do. He's probably used to my nerves by now but it still makes me wonder how much he's annoyed with it.

When I put my phone away and look up, Louis is taking off his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his uniform, revealing the ink along his skin, etched deeply and darkly into his smooth forearms. He unbuttons the top of the shirt, loosening it around his neck and my breath catches in my throat because its enough to see the curve of his collarbones and the dip it makes that extends to the centre of his chest.

I look away before he catches me, and he gets us started quickly. I'm sure it's so he can get out of here sooner, and we end up finishing three of the tougher questions by the time the doorbell rings.

I grab my wallet from the counter, but Louis stands up and reaches into his pocket.

"I can pay." He suggests, as if a few pounds will be a problem for me.

"No, it's fine." I assure.

"Are you sure? I mean - I kind of am making you stay with me for another hour or so."

I laugh, thinking he should want me to be paying for that exact same reason. "It really is fine. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do." I say and he flashes a small smile and a soft chuckle vibrates in his chest before I leave to go pay for ecerything. It's the first time he's genuinely smiled at me, unless this one is forced lIke the others and I just can't tell the difference anymore.

I come back and place the food on the dining room table, sliding him his drink and look at the questions as we eat.

We're completely finished of biology around 6:30, when mum comes home with her arms full of books and a large handbag.

"Hi, you two," she says with a smile. "What are you doing?"

"Just some assignments.," I tell her and she nods, looking back and forth between the two of us. She looks happy to have Louis here, probably thinking I'm finally making friends when he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I'd say I'll make something for you two eat, but you already have food and I am extremely tired and not in the mood for cooking."

We both laugh and I say. "It's fine."

She smiles, sliding some of her things onto the counter as she pulls her tan coat off.

"Well I still need to finish up some work, so I'll see you later." She says briefly, leaving us alone again.

I turn to Louis, who hasn't said anything and ask, "Maths now?" I don't want to let any awkward silence make this worse for the both of us.

"I'm too damn tired of this," he complains.

"You said you have to get it done by tomorrow."

"Can't we finish it at lunch or something?" He asks and I shrug. He won't get it done at lunch tomorrow. He'll be around all his friends and won't beat to be seen with me.

"It won't take too long."

He rests his face against his palm as he looks down at his books with heavy eyelids, sighing "Fine."

"These questions are easy. You could have gotten them done when they were due last month."

He rolls his eyes. "You only think they're easy because you're basically the smartest person in our year."

The way he says it makes me feel offended and as if it wasn't a compliment when it should be. I still attempt to ignore the tone and pretend it feels good to hear. It's better than being a complete fucking idiot, but he thinks I'm like that too most of the time.

"Well it really is easy. We've been learning this stuff for a while. I'm sure you can remember it." I tell him. I show him the first question and he looks over it, leaning back and running his fingers through his hair, groaning.

"I don't know."

"At least guess?"

"I honestly have no fucking clue," he states, letting out a small laugh.

I open our textbook and flip it around, showing him one of the questions we did in class a while ago.

"Do you remember now?"

" _No,_ " he says. I forgot he doesn't pay attention in class either.

I have to go through the question and it looks like he's following along until we come back to the assignment.

"I don't even remember the first fucking step." He tells me, looking at the book again.

"Well just..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say. "Keep using the book. It's basically the same steps over and over. You'll memorize it eventually."

"That sounds like bullshit."

I nod and laugh. "It does, but if you don't memorize it, you'll end up not knowing anything." I say honestly, because that's all school is right now. "Just... Try to connect it with something you do know. And the more questions you do, you'll realize you'll need to look at the book less and less because you're actually remembering more. It's not immediately going to happen, but you can't just stop trying and expect that you're going to pass."

I know I'm babbling and he looks at me, cracking a smile. My cheeks turn red and scratch the back of my neck, praying my voice isn't as embarrassing as I think it is.

"This is stupid," he states.

"It'll work. I do it all the time."

"Sure..." He shakes his head and looks down to the book again. "Let's just keep going."

We have it finished only thirty minutes later and I look at the clock, wishing I could turn the hands backwards to when we were laughing at my babbled words and he forgot about hating me. It doesn't take long to remember that he'll keep making a joke out of me at school again, when all of his friends are around. I would take Louis smiling over scowling any day.

He packs up his books and I throw the last few slices of pizza in the refrigerator, as I'll probably be eating the rest of it tomorrow.

I turn back around just as he's picking up his jacket and shoving it in his bag, taking his car keys out.

"Thanks for helping out," Louis says, barely looking at me when I smile. He doesn't tend to thank me, or say anything at all.

I don't want to make a big deal out of it, so I say, "Anytime."

He makes eye contact with me that's somehow deeper than any other time he's looked at me. We barely look at each other but I never want him to take his eyes off of me.

"You know, you can be a pretty good guy, Marcel." He admits, and he looks almost as surprised with his words as I am. I would have been ecstatic with a "see you later" so I do everything to keep calm with this step forward. I almost gag at myself while obsessing over how good it feels to hear that from him.

"Thanks," my cheeks are warm and I know it's embarrassingly obvious, but I don't have a clue how to cover it up without pulling a sheet over my head. "You too. You're not as much of a dick as you are in school." I'm wary calling him down like that, and even if I'm joking I wonder if he will take offense to it. Instead, he laughs lightly. I hate how much I like hearing hI'm.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll back off a little more." He suggests, and I don't know if it's sad that this is the best conversation I've had with him.

"That would be great." I agree, and he nods with that same delicate smile across his rosie lips.

"See you at school." He says, walking towards the door.

"See you." I speak too quietly, but I hoe he hears me before he closes the door behind himself.

I let out a breath, laughing to myself like a maniac.

_You're can be a pretty good guy_

_Maybe I'll back off a little more._

_See you at school._

My smile is idiotically huge as I put away all my school books, my mind flickering over and over the image of him laughing. I never believed I'd be happy about having him around me, and I never though he'd ever be the one joking with me and having a good time.

Still, I don't tell myself things are getting better. Everyone is different when they're alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big mistake.

 

Songs for this chapter:

[Human - Christina Perri](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5yaoMjaAmE)

[Clown - Emeli Sandé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OHX_PA25Ok)

[I Can't Make You Love Me - Bon Iver](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vp-bPAKLfx4)

 

Louis' POV

"He could be kind of cute...." Emma says as we all take short turns glancing across the room to Marcel. "You know, if he wasn't so..."

"Annoying?" Trent finishes and we all laugh.

"Exactly," she agrees, looking him over once more. I don't know what the fuck to think about it all, but it sure as hell makes me uncomfortable. "Honestly, he really could be attractive in that hot-nerdy way."

The guys at the table look at her and Trent asks, " _Are you fucking kidding me_?"

"Then why don't you get with him?" Ian teases. "I'm sure he'd be willing to be with any girl in this whole school."

"I doubt he's even had a girlfriend before." I chuckle, pushing the food on my plate back and forth with my fork. Even if he was okay to hang around with yesterday, I'm not going to let my friends know that. They'd never let it go.

"Because he's probably gay as fuck," Trent goes on, causing us all to laugh again. "Louis, he'd probably be into you before any girl here."

"Oh no, you're going to leave me for him?" Amanda jokes and I roll my eyes.

"Piss off," I say, angered by their comments even though I know they're all fucking around.

"Don't you know him?" Trent asks and my mind races to the times we spent together the shit they'd say if they knew. "Like through your parents or something?"

My pulse slows and I nod. I shouldn't freak out about it so much. "Yeah, I guess," I shrug. "Our parents are friends so we have these family dinners and stuff sometimes."

"Hm," he comments like it isn't a big deal, giving me more relief. "And he's not annoying as he is during class?"

"Surprisingly not," I admit, wary that they might make something out of my short comment. "I think he controls himself outside of school."

"Then why can't he fucking do that in school?" He asks. "He wouldn't be so goddamn alone all the time and might actually have friends."

"Tell me about it," I laugh, keeping up with how they feel about him so nothing looks weird. "But he's actually decent, as fucking strange as that sounds."

"Wow," Ian says. "Louis Tomlinson getting soft for Marcel? How sweet."

"Yeah right. He's still a fag, no matter how decent he tries to act." I quickly deny, and laugh away his previous comment so they can't say anything else. I'd rather be a dick than have them know what I really think.

"God, you're such a prick." Emma laughs and I shrug.

"It's true," I say. "He'd probably be checking out every guy in this school before even looking at you."

"I doubt it," Ian says, slipping his arm around her waist and pressing his mouth to her cheek, making them deepen in colour.

I roll my eyes, tired of the sickening amount of affection they show in front of everyone.

"Get a room," Trent throws his bottle cap at them and Ian grins.

"Sure, sure."

The bell echoes throughout the room and everyone immediately stands up, the room full of similar uniforms making their way towards the two exits. I sigh as I slowly make my way around everyone, wishing they wouldn't walk so fucking slow all the time. A hand touches mine in the midst of it all, giving it a too-tough squeeze. Looking beside me, Amanda's smiling face is beams up at me.

"Hello," she says, pushing herself up on her toes to kiss me. It's cold and familiar in all the wrong ways.

I give her a small smile and she leans into me as we make it into the halls, to my locker.

"I'm home alone this weekend," she declares, probably a little too loud.

"Oh really?" I question, my lips curving into a smirk.

"My parents leave Friday night and Lucy is staying with one of her friends on Halloween." She explains and I lean against the lockers, folding my arms across my chest.

"Then I guess I'll have to come over for a bit, won't I?" I tease, leaving her in an abundance of smiles. I would rather stay home alone, but I'm supposed to like being with her so I will. I have to.

"Absolutely," she agrees. "I'll see you after class?"

I nod and she grins again before walking away.

I open my locker and think about her too hard, but don't worrying about mum parents because they're usually gone. I don't have anything better to do either, and using her to get off was sick, but it wasn't my fault she doesn't know what the hell she's doing. I'm sure I could have found some other desperate girl, but the fact that every other guy wants her makes me feel like I shold be with her. She seems more attractive that way. My dad loves her too. I guess it's finally something he fucking pays attention to other than football. Even then, he rarely every cares.

He's never the father to say he's proud of me when no one is around and it's even hard to get it out of him when people are. There has to be some sort of competition where he feels the need to brag and be better than everyone else. He's a bastard but I can't do anything about it.

I walk to my maths class, sitting down at the front beside Marcel. He barely glances at me before looking away and I wonder if he thought all that shit I said to him about us being alright, was true. Then I remember what Emma was saying earlier and stop myself from laughing at the idea of them together.

We're silenced as the teacher stands in front of the room, beginning the lesson. I never saw the big importance in being here, since my only plan was football and that's all I'll ever want to do. I know I'm good, no matter how cocky it sounds. People told me, so I don't get why I wouldn't think I was. I had a scholarship application and I've been captain of our school's team since I was fifteen and scouts have been coming to my games every year, so everything seems to be working out.

As I pretend to listen while Marcel actually listens, I look to him and know he'll fall for Emma if she went for him. Even as a joke, she could be convincing. Any girl I know could be convincing if they felt like it. It's not like anyone else wants him either, so he'll end up going along with it.

"You coming to the party this weekend?" I ask him quietly. I can pull it off without my parents knowing.

"What?" He asks and I grin as he blushes more, wondering how talking to him gets him embarrassed.

"I'm having a Halloween party this Saturday and you're invited." I restate and he looks at me in confusion. I glance to making sure Mrs. Argon is too distracted with teaching to notice us. "It's not a costume thing."

"Why do you want me to come?"

I shrug.

"We're okay, right?" I ask and he hesitates before shrugging and nodding. "So it kind of makes sense to invite my friends to my party, right?"

He nods again.

"So you'll be there?"

"I - I mean... I don't really go to parties." He whispers.

"Why not start now? It'll be fun, besides-"

"Louis?" A voice cut off my whisper and I looked over to Mrs. Argon, her glare shutting me up. "Do you have something to say?"

I grin, looking around at the people staring at me before looking back to her, staring down at the brown shoes she always wears.

"I like your shoes," I comment and everyone succumbs to their laughter. Smirking, I look over at Marcel and he's grinning, looking down at his desk.

"Pay attention," she asserts sternly and I agree, letting her turn back around.

"We'll talk after class," I say to Marcel, looking back up to the front.

I continue to not pay attention and pretend to work until the bell rings, getting up to gather my stuff.

"So you'll come, right?" I ask Marcel and he shrugs, piling his two books together.

"I don't know," he answers.

"Why not? Emma's going to be there." I tell him. Even if she's doing something this weekend, I can get her to drop it for this.

He lets out a small laugh.

"Why does that matter?" He asks, taking his books in his arms before walking with me into the halls.

"Because she's into you," I say and he scoffs.

"Yeah, right," He denies, turning down the hall.

"I'm serious," I insist. "She was talking about you today."

He looks down at me for a second, blushijg more and more each time I say something about her.

"Really?" He wonders and I nod.

"She's been going on about it for a while." I lie. I didn't think it would be this easy.

"I thought she was with Ian?" He asks and I shake my head.

"They ended it. I think they're just friends now, whatever the hell that's suppose to mean." I say, but he seems like he still doesn't want to go. I don't blame him after all the shit I've done in the past year or so. And the shit I'm starting now isn't going to make him like me any more, but I'll be fine without his friendship.

"I don't really do the whole party thing, though. I wouldn't know anybody." He continues and I'm not giving up until he agrees.

"You know me," I point out. "And I'll introduce you to my friends, including Emma."

"She can't like me if she doesn't know me. I don't think this is the best idea." He tells me stubbornly, and I roll my eyes.

"She thinks you're hot. She's hot too so you might as well. You'll like her."

_If you're not into guys like everyone_ _thinks_.

"You don't even have to stay the whole time. Just hang out for a bit and leave whenever you want." I suggest and he sighs, stopping at his locker. He looks at me with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth and sighs deeply before answering.

"I'll only go for a little bit," he agrees and I grin, already planning out the things I need to do to make this happen. Even if it doesn't work out, I'll probably be too drunk to care.

"That works," I nod, saying I'd see him later on and walk in the other direction to my own locker. I barely make it there when Trent and Sam carch up with me.

"Are you in love with Marcel?" Sam teases, putting his hands on my shoulders to gently shove me to the side. I laugh, regaining my balance and shake my head.

"Hell no," I reply.

"Then why were you inviting him to some party that doesn't exist?" He asks with a chuckle. "Are you looking for a reason to spend some time alone?"

I roll my eyes, ignoring their comments that always piss me off.

"The party does exist. Saturday at my place." I tell them.

"Since when?" Trent asks.

"Since an hour ago," I say. "Be there whenever, bring whoever, and do anything but destroy the house so my parents don't find out."

"Sounds good to me, but why the hell is Fag of the Century coming?" Sam asks.

"You can't have a party without entertainment, right?" I ask and they're already enjoying the plan. "Where's Emma?"

  
Marcel's POV

I sit on my bed, staring at the clock on my phone I've checked for the past half hour. It's eight o'clock, the time Louis said everyone would be there by. It would only take me a few minutes to drive to his house and stay at the party I don't want to go anyway.

He's never wanted me to go to parties and I didn't think he ever would, especially if everyone he knows is going to be there. The whole week, I wonder if this is a joke and if they're going to do something when I get there, but I'm still sitting here, ready to go. It makes sense and no sense at the same time because he acted like we were friends, but month ago he hated me. He hated me for a year. He couldn't even stand being in the same room as me without making me feel like shit, but now he's inviting me to some party where all his friends will be with all their friends and it's like I'm suppose to pretend nothing happened.

He said he'd back off with all the stuff he does and I want to trust him. If I don't, this won't be going anywhere. I've wanted to get close to someone for so long, so I wish my stomach would stop clenching painfully whenever I think about being in a room with Louis and all those people. He's opening up and I can't ruin that because of this anxiety I told myself I would get over so long ago. I have to try once and if it doesn't turn out, I have a reason to not spend time with these people anymore. Louis hasn't changed his mind about me until now and if I don't go, that would give him more of a reason to hate me again.

I stand up, putting my phone in my pocket and grab my jacket, throwing it over my shoulders. I walk downstairs, slipping my trainers on and my mum smiles at me.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

"Just to Louis'," I tell her calmly, saying the words I came up with a few days earlier. I don't think she would ever let me go to a party, no matter who it was, but if I was with someone she likes, she wouldn't mind.

"Don't be out too late, okay?" She asks and I nod.

"I won't," I answer, smiling at her before taking my car keys and walking out the door. It's starting to get darker earlier and the autumn weather bites at my cheeks when I slide into my car. The leather seats are stiff and scatter goosebumps along my thighs when I sit down, but I don't start it, letting all the temporary lights go out. I'm so cold and I think I sit there another ten minutes before putting the key into the ignition to turn on the heat. I'm waiting for Louis to somehow get ahold of me even gif he doesn't have my number and say that the party was cancelled. Maybe I'll show up and he could tell me it was cancelled and there might be another way we could hang out without all those people I don't know.

I finally get the courage to pull away from my house, driving down the road to Louis' place. I see kids and their parents along the pavement beside me, going up to houses with their costumes on. I did that a few times when I was a kid, but stopped a while ago. My parents got busy so I wasn't out long, no matter how much they tried to make time for me.

As I make my way to Louis', the kids become fewer as the noise of the party becomes louder. There are a few cars already parked outside and I try to convince myself that he won't notice if I don't show up, but he's going to introduce me to his friends and I'm being paranoid again. If everything goes to shit, I can just leave. He said I could leave whenever I wanted to, and if that's in fifteen minutes then it should be okay.

I park my car, getting out and lock the doors behind me. There are people in the front garden and I expect more to be in the back and inside, already hearing the loud voices and music. I open the front door and the music gets louder, pulsing in my ears at a steady rate that will eventually make my head pound. Two girls pass me with their arms around each other, both wearing a headband with small cat ears. They laugh, and I can smell alcohol on their breath until they pass me. I see people from school, some wearing costumes, and people I've never met before, each one of their bodies making this room seem smaller. Girls dress up in very few pieces of clothing and I try pushing past the people, going unnoticed, when a hand rests on my shoulder. I jump and turn around, seeing familiar blue eyes look up at me.

"You're a little late," Louis says, taking me in the opposite direction I was walking.

"Sorry - I just got caught up-"

"It's no big deal," he shrugs, leading me towards a group of people I regularly see him around. "Here is everybody."

I look to them, expecting them to laugh at me or make some comment, but they just smile.

"This is Trent, Sam, Ian, Adam, Marcie, Amanda..." He pauses, pointing to Emma, who stands up off her chair and in front of me. "And Emma."

She smiles up at me, shaking my hand.

"Nice to finally meet you," she says and I nod, awkwardly smiling back at her as I think of what Louis told me.

"You too," I reply.

"Do you want a drink?" She asks and I shake my head.

"I don't really drink," I tell her. I know I'm going to have to drive myself home and my parents would murder me if I came back drunk. "I'm driving and actually don't know how long I can stay-"

"Just a few hours is good," She says quickly, and I can't remember what time I left or if my parents would be in bed when I get home later than I thought.

"Sure," I agree, before she quickly begins talking to me again. It's comforting knowing I won't have to be the one coming up with conversations.

"They're playing beer pong, wanna join?" She asks suddenly, raising her eyebrows. I honestly do not want to drink at all tonight, and don't know why I would come if I wasn't. All these parties are is drinking and I'll hate the feeling of no control or get addicted to it.

"I won't be the best," I admit, scratching the back of my neck nervously. This is my way of telling her I've never played beer pong before.

"Can you play regular ping-pong?" She asks and I shrug.

"Well sure, I guess-"

"Then you'll be great at this," she insists, taking my hand and pulls me away from everyone else. I look to Louis, seeing him pinching his bottom lip between his two fingers as he smirks.

"I don't really drink much-" I repeat, but she probably has a few in her already and keeps guiding me through the crowd.

"I'll drink for you. And if you're good enough, maybe neither of us will have to," she winks at me and keep walking.

We end up squeezing our way to the kitchen area, where a ping-pong table is set up on the dining room table. Red SOLO cups are placed on either side and there are four guys, clearly wasted, trying to throw small plastic balls into the cups. They miss a lot, not getting it into the quarter-filled cups. When they do get it in, everyone around us cheers loudly and I look at them, laughing timidly.

"After they're done, I'll get us to play." Emma tells me with a smile. "It might be a bit confusing at first, but you'll catch on. The obvious part is throwing the ball into the cup, when you get it in, one of the other guys has to drink whatever's in it. And if they get it in our cups, one of us has to drink. Whoever drinks all their cups first looses."

I nod, thinking it's simple enough, even though I might still screw everything up in front of everyone.

"There's some stuff to remember, so I'll just talk you through it as we go," She goes on, pointing to the two guys playing.

"Okay," I agree, hoping it won't be too hard. If I get the ball in the cup each time, I won't have to remember much.

The four guys currently playing are almost done, the ones on the left having two cups, and the ones on the right having four.

Everyone cheers again as the guys on the right got the ball in another cup, throwing their hands up. I laugh at how big of a deal it is to them, and wonder how much harder it is than it looks. The guy on the left throws the ball, missing, and I grow more anxious as I figure Emma would get me playing soon.

It ends too soon, once a right-sided guy throws the ball. It bounces on the table and left went to grab it quickly, but it bounces off the palm of his hand, making a splash into the cup.

Everyone who's laid their eyes on the event goes mad, throwing their arms up, yelling loudly. Random people pick up Team Right, sitting him on their shoulders as they high-fived, screaming drunken words of _kicking arse_ and _being the shit._

"Who's next?" Someone calls, standing on a chair with a small ball in his hand. There are people setting up the ten cups in a pyramid shape again and filling them up with beer.

Two people volunteer, more than willing, already taking their place on the left side. One of the guys has dark hair and eyes and I remember him from school. He's in one of my classes and hates me, which isn't unusual - Matthew. The other one is a year younger than I and I haven't seen him around much, But I think his name is Nick or Nathan or something that starts with an _N_ or maybe I'm completely wrong.

Emma takes my hand, pulling me past the small wall of people and gets me to stand on the right with her.

"I'm playing with Marcel," she says confidently, and I hear people around me get quieter. The music still blares loudly and people from school look at each other, whispering a few things before smirking. My stomach clenches and I glance away.

"Alright," the guy on the chair agreed, right before stepping down. "You both better know the rules as I will not be explaining them again."

Emma nods and Matthew looks at me like this is going to be an easy win, but I can't let myself get embarrassed in front of everyone again.

"Okay, one ball each to start off," he begins and I frown, looking down at Emma. She didn't tell me anything about that.

"You throw the ball into the cups without actually looking at the cups. Whichever team gets it in first gets the first toss." She explains.

"Derek, I thought we didn't get the rules explained to us?" Matthew complains, gesturing to Emma and I. The guy who was previously standing on the chair - Derek - shrugs.

"It's allowed for beer-pong virgins," he says and I hear a few more people laughing.

"That's not the only virgin he is!" Someone calls out, and my cheeks burn. The laughter erupts, louder than before and I look away from the crowd, acting as if I didn't hear anything.

"Okay, okay," Derek lifts his hands as if it will calm everyone down. "No more talking shit, and let's just do this. We're wasting time."

I nod, twisting the ball around between my fingers three times. Matthew and I looked at each other as Derek began counting up from three.

"One... Two... Three!" We both toss the balls and I watch the lightweight, white ball fly through the air before it hits the rim of the cups, bouncing off the edge of the long table.

My chest clenches and I blush again, looking down and hope Matthew didn't get his in either. But, his small ball is floating around in one of my cups and he cockily grins, completely content with starting off well.

"Looks like Matthew and Nate are first," Derek remarks. I take the ball out of my cup, tossing it to him with a sigh.

I'm hot and sweaty, the large crowd of people not helping my nerves of this entire situation. I barely wanted to come tonight, let alone have everyone watch me play some game when I barely know what I'm doing.

"Here we go," Matthew says, throwing the ball again. I watch it as it flies through the air, tapping the rim of my cup before it begins bouncing back to him.

"Grab it!" Emma tells me and my reflexes take over and I quickly reach for the small ball before Matthew can, my fingers easily wrapping around it as I pull it back into my possession. The people around us _ooh'd_ and I grin, and Matthew is already pissed off at me.

Nate takes his turn to throw his ball. I watch it bounce off the cups and Emma grabs it in the air before it can bounce again.

Everyone boos them and I laugh, looking down to Emma, "Looks like we're starting off better than they thought." She shrugs with a smirk. "You first?"

She gestures to the ball in my hand and I shake my head.

"You can go," I tell her, stepping aside. She takes my place in the middle of the table, effortlessly throwing the ball into a cup.

She throws her hands up, laughing happily.

"First points go Emma and Marcel!" Derek calls and I look to Matthew with a smile, trying not to be so content with myself.

He picks up the cup, taking out the ball to drink it's contents before putting it to the side.

We get more and more of their cups, Matthew and Nate only taking four of ours.

"Matthew and Nate seem to be off to a bad start, but there's still time to turn the game around," Derek drunkenly narrates.

"Fuck off," Nate says with a small laugh.

"That will be a yellow card, Nathaniel. You better watch it next time." He warns and I smirk, seeing Nate roll his eyes again, finding the whole thing ridiculous.

"Game on!" He calls out and I look at the cups again, rolling the ball three times between my fingers again.

I throw it and it shot of towards the right of the cups, bouncing on the edge table with a small ping before Matthew catches it.

"We still have more cups than them." Emma reminds me, folding her arms across her chest as Matthew throws the ball again.

It falls into one of the cups and I sigh, knowing our winning moments is only going to last a few minutes.

Emma picks up the drink and lifts it to her lips, placing it empty to the side.

I see something move out of the corner of my eye and looked to the left, watching Louis merge through to the front of everyone with Sam. He looks over at me and I quickly look away, barely making eye contact. I try focusing my attention on the game and Nate's turn, but I'm more nervous than before with Louis watching, hands in his pockets.

Nate misses, and I barely notice until I hear Louis's voice over the music.

"Come on, Nathaniel!" He laughs. "You can do better than that!"

I smirk and Nate laughs along with him, shaking his head.

"I'm just warming up, Tomlinson," he jokes with a wink.

Sam leans over and says something closely to Louis. Louis' eyebrows crease together and he mouthes "What?", making Sam laugh. I can't make out any of the words he's saying, but Louis' eyes flicker over to me as they talk and it makes me ill.

There's a nudge against my arm and I look down to Emma.

"Your turn," she says, tipping her head back towards the game.

"Oh. Okay," I nod, nervously grabbing the ball to roll it between my fingers four times. I try not to think about all the people watching me as I ready myself, but I can almost feel all of their eyes as I lift my arm. I'm careful of everything, Emma's rules running through my mind over and over and over, trying not to mess up on something ridiculous.

I finally toss the ball in the air, holding my breath again as it begins falling towards the cups, bouncing off one before dropping into another.

Everyone cheers and I grin, unable to keep a straight face, then feel arms wrap around me, pulling me down a bit.

Emma's hair is in my face before falling down her back and I awkwardly put my arms back around her, laughing. She holds onto me and I look back at Louis, seeing his angered expression as he talks to Sam, shaking his head. Sam looks like he's yelling something back and people start to stare at them.

I frown and Emma lets go of me, keeping her arm around my waist.

Louis looks at me once again before walking away from Sam and over to me.

"Come with me," he says, wrapping his hand around my arm, but Emma has her arm around my waist and keeps me there.

"He's staying to finish the game. He's doing good so far." She tells him firmly.

"He can't stay," Louis asserts, his expression hardened.

I look back to Sam and wonder what they might have been saying as Louis kept looking at me and why they would be so anary at each other. I don't think I did anything wrong and can't see why I'd have to leave.

"Yes he can. We're not finished," Emma says.

"Tomlinson! What's going on? You're interrupting the game, mate." Derek intervenes.

"I need Marcel for a bit," He tells Derek, his hand still around my bicep.

"It can wait until after the game."

"No it can't," he says firmly and Derek looks at him strangely.

"But he's having a good time. Let him stay." He suggests. Louis rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and looks up at me.

"Do you want to play a game or come with me?" He asks.

"I don't know-" I begin, wanting to go with him for whatever's happening, but everyone around us is waiting for the game to be finished.

"You can't go, you're doing so well!" Emma says with a smile, lacing both her smaller hands into mine. "We could probably win, you know. They're already shit-faced, so that's an advantage-"

"He doesn't want to play anymore," Louis answers for me.

"But-" I go on, getting cut off again.

"He's staying. You're fucking up the game, just leave." She snaps, the both of them easily getting angrier with each other.

"Could it wait until after the game?" I ask Louis, trying to compromise on something.

"No," his voice is cold.

"Of course it can. We won't be that long." Emma denies, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Fuck this," he gives up, turning around. "It's your fucking problem now."

I frown, watching him walking away and I'm still confused as to what he's so angry over in the first place, with both Sam and Emma - now me. I feel a pang of guilt for not going with him. It seemed important enough to insist on pulling me away from everything.

"What was that about?" I ask Emma. She shrugs, turning to the game again.

"He gets pissy a lot," she explains. "I'd rather stay out of it."

"Oh," I say, forcing myself away from being concerned.

"Let's get back to the game." She suggests, slipping her arm around my waist again and looks up at me with a grin. "Besides, we're already winning."

  
Louis' POV

I forcefully push my way through the crowd of sweaty, loud people, getting to the front to see Marcel and Emma playing beer pong with Nate and Matthew. Nate has the ball in his hands, readying himself to toss it across the table. He misses by a long shot, not too disappointed as he laughs it off, looking over to Matthew, who tries covering up his unpleased expression.

"Come on, Nathaniel!" I call out, seeing him look in my direction. "You can do better than that!"

He lets out another laugh, shaking his head.

"I'm just warming up, Tomlinson," he tells me, winking over at Emma.

I laugh again, knowing he'll probably be the last person to be anywhere near winning this game while he's so pissed.

"He's starting it in a few minutes," Sam says, leaning a bit closer to me so I can hear over the pulsing music.

"What?" I ask.

"That thing," he tells me, as if I know whatever the fuck he's talking about.

"Okay, thanks for explaining,"nI say with a chuckle, folding my arms a cross my chest.

"With Marcel," he adds, and I look over at him, frowning.

"Since when was Matt apart of it? It was just supposed to be a few of us." I remind him, not understanding why they'd change the plans without telling me. I'm the one who came up with the whole damn idea in the first place.

"Everyone's in on it now," he says with a laugh. "Jake was supposed to tell you."

"Jake didn't say shit," I remark. "Did you change all of it?"

"Mostly," he shrugs like it isn't a big deal.

"What the fuck? This was my idea in the first place."

"Calm down, it's too late to change it back now." He says, rolling his eyes.

"I made the whole fucking plan so my parents wouldn't find out, what did you change?" I ask loudly, my body getting hot. It could be anything that will keep my parents from letting me do shit when the find out.

"If we clean it up, it'll be fine." He tells me vaguely.

"What are you going to do?" I repeat.

"Don't worry so much, mate. It'll be fucking hilarious." He tells me with a laugh, giving my back a small pat.

"You're not even telling me what the hell is happening. It's my house, my party, my fucking rules." I demand, noticing the way people are staring at us. "Emma was just supposed to do some shit with him. Tell me what you're doing."

"Even if I did tell you, there's no way in hell you'd get everyone to stop what we changed in three minutes." He informs me.

"Fuck sakes," I walk away from him, over to Marcel and grab his arm. "Come with me." I demand, hoping to get him away from this shit before anything happens that will make me look bad.

He hesitates and Emma's arm wraps around his waist, keeping him put.

"He's staying to finish the game," she tells me. "He's doing good so far."

"He can't stay," I say. I don't know why all of a sudden everyone decided to be douchebags about this. I'm going to get in so much shit and I don't need that.

"Yes he can. We're not finished," she insists.

"Tomlinson!" A voice says and I turn around to see Derek in front of me. "What going on? You're interrupting the game, mate."

He says "the game" with a small smirk and a bit of an exaggeration and I'm ready to make everyone leave. The only rule with my parents was no parties when they're gone and I'm usually good with that shit, either not getting caught or just going to someone else's place. Even the small idea I had before was risking a lot and now that they've changed it, I have no fucking clue how to clean it up whatever mess they'll make.

"I need Marcel for a bit," I say, my hand still on his arm, ready to pull him away from everyone.

"It can wait until after the game." He answers. I'm going to ruin everything they planned and I know they'll all be pissed at me but they don't have to go ahead and do all this without saying something.

"No it can't," I reject, pulling at his arm again.

Derek looks at me strangely, probably thinking I was the one to come up with Sam's idea.

"But he's having a good time. Let him stay." He suggests, trying to get me to go along with everything.

I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest, looking up at Marcel.

"Do you want to play the game or come with me?" I ask and his eyes flicker from me to Emma to Derek nervously.

"I don't know-" He stutters, right before Emma cuts him off.

"You can't go, you were doing so well!" She flashes him a smile, holding his hand in both of hers. "We could probably win, you know. They're already shitfaced, so that's an advantage-"

"He doesn't want to play anymore." I interject, not wanting to put up with any of their bullshit anymore.

"But-" Marcel begins, only to get interrupted again.

"He's staying. You're fucking up the game, just leave." She decides and my jaw clenches.

"Could it wait until after the game?" Marcel asks, trying to find a middle ground. He could have given us money to be quiet and we wouldn't take it until one of us won.

"No."

"Of course it can. We won't be that long." Emma says, putting her hand gently on his shoulder to turn him away from me.

I let it go, my giving a shit anymore. If they wanted to fuck things up, I'll make them clean up their own mess. They'll be the ones getting into shit for doing this to Marcel and I won't be involved. No one can blame me for anything but being at the party when it happened.

"Fuck this." I turn away from them both. "It's your fucking problem now."

I walk away when someone grabs my arm yo stop me.

"Louis! Are you leaving?" I sigh, not wanting to talk to anyone. Everyone thinks I'm in on this when all I know is they're fucking it all up.

"It's my house, I don't exactly have anywhere else to go." I tell Amanda, shoving my hands in my pockets and look around for an excuse to stop talking to her.

"We could always go to my place... It's empty all weekend." She grins, drunkenly draping her arms around my neck. Being so close to her like this with her thin arms around me is uncomfortable, and I want to push her away.

"Maybe after the party," I suggest, but she'll keep drinking and probably blackout, forgetting we had this conversation. "But I'm seeing Sam about something, so I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Sure, but we're starting soon," She reminds me and I nod, not knowing how many people are going to tell me within the time I'm here.

"I know," I say, about to walk away from her when I hear a loud thud and a crash in the area I was trying to get away from. There are a few screams from the girls and everyone else is quiet for a few seconds before they burst out laughing.

I try to steer clear, but the laughter goes on and on and on and nearly everyone is walking over to see what happened. I sigh, walking back over and have to get through everyone to see the beer pong table tipped over, a broken chair, a carpet soaked with a beer and red cups scattered across the floor on their sides.

Then there's Marcel in the middle of it all, his torso and trousers drenched in alcohol as he stands in front of every single person laughing at him.

  
Marcel's POV

It's cold and wet and every inch of my clothes stick to my body. It smells bitter and I can barely breathe without being uncomfortable.

"Fucking idiot..." I hear someone laugh, and turn around to see who it is, but they're all looking at me and I can't even count the number of people who are saying something to their friends before they all laugh.

"Shit, are you okay?" Sam asks with a small laugh.

My hands are shaking and the four walls around me are starting to close in. I can almost feel everyone's cool breath on my skin, making the drinks all over me more cold and sticky. I'm ready to regurgitate the last meal I consumed on the floor beneath my feet, the large lump in my throat constantly rising. There's nothing right or okay about this, but I still manage to say the words to Sam.

"I'm fine," my voice is quiet and I don't know if he hears me over all the laughter, because I can barely hear my own thoughts. They're too loud and too close and laughing too much and I'm too ill to keep standing here.

"I - I have to - to go." I stammer, needing to get away from everyone. I can feel my lungs tightening and there are droplets of liquid on my glasses, making everything blurry. I get through the crowd, people easily backing away from me so they don't get wet.

"Woah, what the hell did they do?"

I look back and my heart is beating faster.

"Don't act like you don't know," I say to Louis, biting my tongue so I can't say anything else.

"I obviously don't," he says, looking down at my drenched clothes. "That's kind of why I'm asking."

"You don't need to bullshit me," I snap, just as Jake comes up to me again.

"Look - I'm really sorry about that. I was just messing around and I didn't see you standing there." He chuckles as he looks at me. "I'm completely fucking hammered. I barely remember what I did twenty minutes ago."

"Whatever," I look down to my feet, biting hard on the inside of my cheek so I don't cry in front of them both.

He knew I was standing there. He looked right at me as he tipped the whole table over.

"Do your parents know you're here?" He asks and I shake my head. "Of course not."

They're going to see everything and smell my clothes when I get home and they'll never trust me again, even if this is the first time I've taken a risk like this with them.

"Well this is a huge fucking house, so I'm sure you could use Louis' shower and some clothes until these ones are clean, hey?" He asks, looking at Louis, who shrugs.

"Whatever, as you as you clean the mess." Louis answers, looking pissed off that he suggested the idea.

"Fine," he agrees with a laugh, walking away.

He goes in a completely different directions and Louis rolls his eyes. He'll be the one to clean it up, no matter how many people he tells to do it.

"Shower's upstairs, second door on the left. There's towels and stuff and I'll get you clothes and put your shit in the wash, just leave it by the door." He tells me all at once and I nod, quickly walking up the staircase. I still have people's eyes on me until I get around the corner, somehow feeling shittier the farther Louis is away.

I get into his toilet, closing the door behind me.

My eyes involuntarily look to the mirror and I see myself soaked, my light top almost transparent from being so wet. Goosebumps cover every inch of my body and I can barely stand here like this anymore. I can barely look at myself without my chest aching and my stomach twisting. Their faces and sounds of their laughter and words ring through my mind endlessly and every time I try to stop it, I can only think of Louis and everyone else pretending like it's all a mistake. If they got me believing they didn't mean to, I couldn't blame them for anything. It would've looked like an accident. I'd be the only one knowing the whole reason I came to this party was to have all eyes on me in the worst way possible.

Before I know it my eyes are red and swollen, tears streaking down my face. I'm freezing now and the beer is seeping through my trousers and into my underwear, so I strip out of it and peel my top away from my body. There are still little droplets of the drinks on my skin, and as the air hits my body, my jaw begins to chatter. My hands are still trembling and my throat is swelling, barely allowing me any oxygen. I wrap my arms around myself and begin looking for one of those towels, finding one in a long cupboard on the side of the room.

I wrap it around my body, trying to wipe away my tears without dropping it and hear a knock on the door.

"I have clothes," Louis says.

I quickly wiped my face again, clearing my throat a few times.

"Just - Just leave them... By the door." My voice is thick and rough and I try to get enough air into my lungs to sound normal.

"What about the wet ones?" He asks and I try drawing in a deep breath, almost choking on the air around me.

"Just a second..." I answer quickly, taking my top and pants in my hand and opened the door ajar, sticking my hand out.

I can feel myself shaking, then a weight is lifted, and replaced by something dry and warm.

"Your clothes will be done after you shower." He tells me after I close the door and lock it.

I place my forehead against it, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down as hard as I can, causing it to quiver.

I'm so angry at him and so angry with everyone and I need someone to be here with me at the same time, and he's the closest thing that made me feel okay when I'm not. I don't know how something so cruel can be so comforting.

"Okay," I say, my voice cracking.

The music is still pounding downstairs and I can picture everyone laughing and drinking and having fun without me like they always have and always will. I picture Louis walking away from the door right now, putting my clothes away to go back and join them. I picture him thinking it was better than helping me out because no one in their right mind would want to. I'm the last person in our whole damn school they'd care about.

I ball up my fists, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands to distract myself from anything. I want to run from it but I have no where to go.

My back presses to the door as I sit down, my legs too weak to keep me standing anymore. Everything is so painful and I think I would know how to stop it by now, but I only wait until I become numb to the feeling.

I let myself cry, but not too hard. My body continues to tremble, not enough to quake, and my chest tightens, but not enough to compress completely.

I sit until it's all gone, and I count the beats of the music until that's the only thing my mind focuses on.

_One, two, three, four_...

I stand up, regaining my balance, and begin walking towards the shower.

_One, two, three, four_...

I lean over and turn on the hot water, barely turning up the cold.

_One, two, three, four_...

I pull my pants away from my legs and drop them in the pile with the clothes Louis handed me.

_One, two, three, four_...

I step inside and the hot water on my skin makes it tingle.

_One, two, three, four_...

I stand facing the water until my entire body is pink and numb. My curly hair clumps together in thick chunks and water drops off the tips, back down the drain.

There's a loud knock at the door and I jump, my heart racing. It squeaks open and I start panicking, feeling as though whoever it was can see completely through the curtain. I thought I locked the door, but I'll have to after they leave.

"It's Sam, I got you clothes," he says I let out a sigh of relief, my tense muscles relaxing a little more.

"Louis already got some for me," I tell him.

"Oh shit, okay," he answers. "I didn't even see him."

"Yeah..." I didn't know what to tell him, the thin curtain being the only thing separating us. I can't see him and he can't see me, but I feel like there's only glass between us.

"Do you need anything else?" He asks and I frown at the question, never thinking I'd hear him say that.

"Not really..." I reply, coughing a little. "But could you... Could you... Leave? And lock the door?"

He laughs and the sound comes from a little farther away.

"Yeah, sure. See you later," he says, and I hear the door close behind him.

I stay under the hot water a while longer, only feeling the need to get out when I look down at my red skin. I still want the heat of it to wash everything away and make me numb, but I turn everything off and push the curtain to the side, reaching for my towel in the last spot I put it.

My hand meets with the counter and I look around the small room, not finding it on the floor or on the small shelf. The small pile of clothes in the corner is empty and I make my way to the long cupboard for another towel, finding the shelves bare.

_No, no, no, no_.

I open and close every drawer and every cupboard, looking in any part of the room for something to cover up with, but Sam has taken everything that's even remotely able to cover me.

I pull at my hair, the ill feeling coming back to me.

Louis' bedroom is just a few doors away. Everyone is downstairs. If I'm quick, I can make it there without anyone seeing me. They're all downstairs anyway.

I walk towards the door, unlocking it and wrap my hand around the knob. Slowly, I begin opening it, and it's barely a foot wide when I feel a large jerk against it. I jump and can immediately hear my heart thrumming in my ears. The door slams against the opposite wall and exposes my entirely naked body and I barely know what's happening until I look up.

_Cover, cover, cover_.

There are too many people with too many cell phones and camera flashes and laughter and voices and words being said and I reach back for the door to close it again and get away from them, but two people are holding it open and there's no where for me to go. My hands fall to my crotch impulsively for the least bit of coverage and I turn away from them, trying to get back.

The flashing lights burn my eyes, leaving dots of blue around me and their laughter cause my eardrums to shake and I tumble backwards, my hands managing to find the shower curtain and grip onto it with every sane part of me I have left. I pull it over my body and they all crowd into the bathroom, saying things too loud to hear.

Their phones are still up and two people grab my arms, trying to pull me up.

I shake my head, trying to puse myself away from them as much as I can and keep myself down, but more people help them until the shower curtain was ripped from their rings and I'm standing again. All I can think of is the pictures they have of me that I won't get back.

"Come on, man. Let's have a little fun." Someone says, pushing me out in front of everyone after they pull the curtain away from my body.

My body goes rigidly cold, goosebumps scattering across my skin again and I want to throw up. I want to be back in the shower with the hot water dripping down my skin, hearing only the beat of the music below me.

"No," I beg, not knowing what to tell them. "Please stop."

They're still recording, and for two seconds I remember Louis' bedroom and I'm able to push my way from everyone, feeling them rub against my exposed skin and entirely naked body. They have every bit of me for anyone they wanted to look at and they will get more of me if I didn't find a way to be alone. My vision is blurry and my chest hurts so much I can barely breathe, trying to push past people as quickly as I can. That bedroom is the nearest thing able to separate me from everyone and as I keep moving forward, it looks like the door is moving farther away.

I hear a humming and the voices and laughter is dull, but somehow I get there, opening the door to quickly close it behind me, adrenaline helping me lock it with ease.

There's a loud pounding on the door and more voices telling me to open up.

_That couldn't have happened_.

"We've got more out here for you!"

_It's all on video_.

"What are you waiting for?"

_You can't take it back_.

"The boyfriends got to be round here somewhere, hey?"

I bury my face in my hands, sobbing into them and hope to rip my chest open to relieve the pressure against my ribcage. There's something snaking around my bones and tightening every time I draw in a breath, so close to crushing them all. My collarbones are almost elongating around my throat like a necklace then shrinking, and I don't know where to look or what to do to help myself. I just cry louder, the noise sounding like a part of my being has been torn away.

They kept pounding on the door and saying things to me and I drop to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest. The noises are so loud and I try to cover my ears as if it will make them go away, and they do. Eventually, there are fewer and fewer people knocking and yelling until it stops completely.

I look around the room, my face swollen and my body completely weak. I don't know how I'm going to leave without anyone seeing me and laughing. I can jump out the window, but that might end in me going to a hospital. Still, my entire body hitting the hard ground will hurt less than this.

I see the pile of clothes Louis handed to me in the corner of the room and slowly MAnd my way towards them so I wouldn't be so cold. I pull the jumper over my head and the joggers up my legs, both the items snug over my body. They smell fresh and musky and the closest thing I've gotten to comfort in a while.

I hear another knock at the door and my head snaps up until I remember locking it so no one can get in.

The person jiggles the knob again before pounding on the door.

"Whoever is in there better get the fuck out." Louis' voice yells and I flinch.

"Who's with you?" I ask him, walking a bit closer.

"It doesn't matter, but if you're thinking of fucking someone on my bed, leave the house." He states. He doesn't know it's me.

"It's Marcel," I tell him, still not wanting to open the door for him. After what they did, expecting the worst is all I can do.

"What are you doing in there?" He growls. "My bedroom is off limits. Get out."

I draw in a shaky breath and his words reminds me of the aching in my chest.

"Who's out there with you?" I ask again.

"Fuck sakes," He grumbles, and I heard his footsteps leaving and coming back.

There's a tapping noise and the knob clicks and Louis opened the door.

"Get out. You can wait for your clothes somewhere else." He states and I look behind him to see no one standing there.

"Why? So you can do some other hilarious shit to me?" I snap and he shakes his head.

"What are you even talking about? I'm sorry they spilled the drinks on you. I don't want anyone in here." He folds his arms across his chest, still waiting for me to leave.

The lights from all the camera flashes still burn my eyes and I bite my cheek.

"Everyone out there has pictures and videos of me being pushed out of the shower naked." I tell him. "I know you all took my clothes and towels, so just give me a break and let me leave."

"They took pictures of you _naked_?" He asks in disbelief and my jaw tightens.

"I'm pretty sure you were in the crowd with them, so don't try lying to me anymore." I tell him, squeezing my hands into fists. He's already done enough, and this is just adding onto my anger and frustration.

"They planned this thing with you, but I swear I wasn't involved." He denies. "I knew I would've gotten into shit for it if I did something. My parents are already going to find out about this party-"

"Everyone in this whole town is going to see those damn pictures, Louis. I really don't care about your parents finding out about just having a party." I sneer. "You're going to be the first person being blamed for this and you know it."

"Why would I when I have no pictures? I wasn't even in the room when they did all this." He remarks.

"But you were the one who held the party. You're the one who invited me here. If it weren't for you, none of this would've happened!" I can feel tears stinging in my eyes again and look to the ceiling again in hope that they'll go away.

"Do I need to remind you that I tried to get you away from everyone? If you listened to me, you'd be fine right now." He yells, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

" _Could it wait until after the game?" I ask Louis, trying to compromise on something._

_"No." His voice is cold._

_"Of course it can. We won't be that long." Emma denies, placing her hand on my shoulder._

_"Fuck this." He gives up, turning around. "It's your fucking problem now."_

I look over at him and thought that would make me feel better, but I'm reminded of the countless times he didn't help me and can't forgive him.

"Why didn't you say they were going to do something then?" I ask. "Why didn't you tell them to leave the party if you didn't want them doing anything?"

"Because I didn't know what they were doing!" He yells. "I didn't do shit, so don't go around blaming me for everything."

"Why did you bring me here?" I ask, a little more calm.

He sighs and shrugs.

"I was going to get Emma to play you and tell us everything. That's it." He tells me and I roll my eyes.

"Why me?" I go on, the salty tears from earlier causing my vision to blur.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He groans, leaning back on the wall beside him.

"Since the very damn day I moved here, you and your friends have been doing this shit to me and I don't know why. You didn't even give me a chance to say my name before you started picking out the things you didn't like." I tell him and he doesn't have the least bit of remorse.

"That's just how it works," he says. "You're different, and not in the way you probably want, so not everyone is going to like you."

"Do you just expect me to be like everyone else?" I ask. "Are you like everyone else?"

"Well no, but it's different for me." He tries explaining and I can feel my breath deepen.

"How?" I ask, my voice raising another level. "No matter where the hell you are, every single damn person is going to be different. They're going to have a different hair colour and face shape and all this shit you might or might not like, but you've decided to make me feel shitty about it. I can't change me, so why are you trying to?"

He looks at me, the first time being intimidated in front of me, but he's quickly able to cover it up.

"I'm not trying to change you," be snaps.

"Then what are you trying to do?" I wonder, needing some sort of answer out of him. "What do you get out of all this?"

"I honestly have no fucking clue," he admits. "I guess it's just fun."

"It's fun to make people feel like shit?"

"I guess so," he tells me without hesitation.

"So it's fun to make people not want to go school? Or even leave the house because they're afraid to see someone they have class with? Is it fun to watch someone hate themselves because everyone else does?"

He doesn't know what to say to everything I tell him and it's the one time I've seen him so unsure of himself. I didn't think I'd be able to say this to him, but because he's so quiet I can get everything out.

"That's not even the worst of it," I point out. "You have no idea what I go through every day. You couldn't even step in my shoes if you wanted to." I tell him, leaving towards the door.

"I could walk ten miles being you and I'd be just fine." He boasts as if it's be the easiest thing to do.

I laugh dryly and shake my head, "You wouldn't get a few feet without wanting to change everything."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The diagnosis.

Songs for this chapter:

[Wonderful World - James Morrison](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuoaKai_L00)

 

Marcel's POV

I can't go to class or walk down the halls or be in the building without someone looking at me and laughing. There isn't a single person who hasn't see the pictures and videos from the party and not a single person who cares enough to ask if I'm okay.

It's like those dreams when you walk into a crowd of people and they immediately start staring and laughing, pointing so everyone else will notice. Then you look down and realize you somehow forgot to put clothes on and there's nothing you can do so people fail to remember. Except this isn't a dream and I'm somehow still naked in front of all of them. I'm just not waking up any time soon.

Their critical expressions are etched in every damn corner of my mind and I keep remembering all the things people have previously done to me.

I'm sitting on my bed, glad I'm away from them, but I breathe in slowly and deeply and my trachea might be obstructing. I can't get enough air to my lungs or my brain, so it takes me too long to process that I need to get up and get help. I'm still home alone and everyone is at school already like I should be, but even if they were here they wouldn't help. Maybe my parents will be home soon and even if they wouldn't know what to do, they'll figure out how to stop me from choking on air.

There's images of me being pushed out of that room into the crowd of all those people and the flashing lights making black dots haze over my vision. The lack of oxygen only makes me panic more, and the cold air hitting my skin still scatters goosebumps up my arms and I clench my fists as every muscle tightens. One by one, every bone in my body begins to ache because _no one cares_. No one is here for me just like they haven't cared every year before this. It makes me so quiet I barely know what the sound of my own voice is anymore or who I am anymore because I haven't even been myself since I was eleven. It's been years since I've been confident but I can't go back to that person because I was just a child and I didn't know I needed any help. It might be too late now.

Someone is downstairs now and my first instinct is to yell for help, but it will cost me air I don't have. I stand up and the black dots grow, making me lose my balance and stumble. The air around me is too thick and my lungs singe when even the smallest bit of it comes in contact. I'm afraid the walls will get smaller and still, no one is here.

"Marcel?" A voice calls. It's loud, but far away, and I can hear footsteps ascending as they come close. "What's happening?"

I shake my head.

_In, and out. In, and out._

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" It's my mums voice, but I only see small images of her, fading in and out.

I still feel alone.

When this happened before, I've been scared I might die. I know it'll go away in a few minutes, but it feels more like hours of gasping and shaking and pain. I'd rather be dead.

"My son... The address is... Please hurry..."

My legs are beginning to tingle and I sit on the ground, putting my head between my knees.

_In, and out. In, and out. In, and out. In, and-_

"Marcel... Here... What happened?"

I shake my head again, gripping onto my shins. My fingernails dig into my trousers and sting my skin and it's relieving that I can feel it, but it's still painful. I think if I died, this would go away.

"Can you stand up?" A voice says and I shake my head yet again, not looking up.

I can't breathe.

_There are too many people with too many cell phones and camera flashes and laughter and voices and words being said and I reach back for the door to close it again and get away from them, but two people are holding it open and there's no where for me to go. My hands fall to my crotch impulsively for the least bit of coverage and I turn away from them, trying to get back.._

_"Imagine if you were me and everyone at school hated you for no damn reason, or a reason no one would tell you. What would you do?"_

_"I'd wish I wasn't you."_

My neck aches when I look up to blurry things moving above me. There are voices and one stands out among them, panicked and terrified.

_Stop thinking. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

There's something being put over my mouth and nose and I push it off. I can't breathe. I need to breathe and my mouth or my nose can't be covered.

"Sir, we're going to need to stay still," someone tells me and I trip looking at them, my lips beginning to go numb. I feel the pressure of the floor against my knees and something taps my head and the person in front of me along with everything else is turning purple then blue then black, the tingling feeling moving from my mouth to my cheeks, to the rest of my face and down to my neck and arms and hands.

Then it's all gone.

My throat is dry.

I'm laying on something thin and spongy and over me, everything is white. I lick my lips and they're cracked and sore, but my tongue is too dry to dampen them. I try looking around, blinking a few times to make the blurriness across my eyes go away, but I don't have my glasses on so everything stays out of focus. When I begin to lift my hand there's a painful tug and I wince, looking down. There's a small IV needle sticking into the sore area and my eyebrows furrow together. I look around the room again, and see the outline of two empty, beige plastic chairs beside my bed and a monitor beeping steadily.

I'm in a hospital.

There's a door in front of me open and I see a desk with a woman in a light blue uniform leaning over it.

"Hello?" My voice is rough, as if it's been screaming for hours. The sound makes my head throb even if it might not be that loud, but it's loud enough that the nurse across the hall stands straight, turning around. She notices me and walks over, smiling kindly. Her eyes are a soft brown and her short hair is tied up into a ponytail. She has fair skin and appears a little nervous and unsure, a healthy glow on her cheeks.

"What am I doing here?" I ask her. The last thing I remember is walking into my empty house after school. "Where's..." I don't know who to ask for. I don't want my parents here and I don't have any friends to talk to.

"Marcel Styles," she says my name as she opens a folder at the table on the end of my bed. "I'm not your doctor, but I can get him for you so you can talk. And if your parents aren't here, he can get someone to give them a call."

I don't want them knowing I'm in the hospital. It gives them something to worry about and none of us want that. And if this is something bad, I don't want them to try and fix it. They'll make it worse.

"You don't have to call them," I tell her and she pauses, looking over at me. I'm sure most kids would want their parents around if they were in the hospital, but mine would just ask too many questions and I don't want to give them any answers.

"Um - okay," she stammers, eyes flickering to the door. "I'll-I'll just page your doctor so he can talk to you."

I nod as she walks out of the room, placing something out of her pocket along the way.

My head is still sore sore and my temples throb and I want to go home and sleep.

I haven't been in the hospital since I was nine and was running down a set of stairs, hitting my head. I can barely remember it happening, but nothing went wrong apparently. It just left me with a bruise but my mum was worried enough to take me in.

"Hello, Marcel," a deep voice greats me and I look up from my hands to see a man in his late thirties coming in to the room. He has a darker blue uniform on than the woman I just saw and a white coat over top. His eyes are icey and stand out against the scrubs and dark hair that dusts over his jawline and chin. His shoulders are broad and he grabs the chart the other woman had taken a look at earlier. I hear the beeps on the monitor get quicker and I'm already cursing at myself for letting it happen.

"I'm Dr. Scheper," he introduces and I nod, clasping my hands together in my lap. My palms are damp, and I try to wipe them on my trousers subtly. "You came in about two hours ago after fainting at your house, do you remember that?"

Flashes of it come back to me only when he mentions it. I remember pain and struggling to breathe and people surrounding me, putting something over my face.

"I remember," I still sound scratchy so I cough to clear it up, doubting that it even helped.

He walks to my bedside and I find myself trying to breath properly because if I can hear the heart monitor, so can he.

"Can you look here for a minute?" He sits on the edge of my bed, holding his finger directly in front of me, asking me to follow it.

I draw in a deep breath, focusing on his finger instead of the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Why did I pass out?" I ask, trying to divert his attention away from my face as he shines a light around my eyes. "I've never passed out before."

"You were dehydrated," he explains, not mentioning my nerves. "But you had an anxiety attack, and the lack of oxygen mostly caused it. You also hit your head before you fainted." He shuts off the light, slipping it into the chest pocket of the white coat. "The paramedics gave you a sedative. You resisted them when they tried putting your oxygen mask on and didn't want to move."

"Oh," I answer quietly, not remembering that part. I wonder if I drank more water than I could be home now. The mention of an anxiety attack from someone else - a doctor - makes me cringe. It seems more real and makes me more insane. I've known I had anxiety for a while. The first time I heard about it I spent hours googling things and figuring out everything that was wrong with me and how I could make it better. Years later, it still isn't better.

"Is this the first time you've had an anxiety attack?" He wonders and I think about lying so it can get me out of here sooner, but he's a doctor and something tells me he already knows the answer, so I shake my head. "How often do they happen?" He asks and I have to think about it because I never keep track. They just happen often.

"A few times a month, I guess," I answer, shrugging before realizing sometimes it happens more.

"When do they usually happen?"

"When..."

_When they can't stop laughing at me._

"When I'm nervous," I say vaguely, then have to rethink the stupidity of the answer. "But I guess everyone gets nervous, so... When - When I'm around a lot of people. It's not comfortable. But I'm just a little claustrophobic."

"How long has this been going on?" He continues. I feel his eyes on me and can't bring myself to look at him.

"For about a year... Maybe a little longer." I keep lying and I shouldn't be. Maybe he could help.

"Do your parents know?"

I shake my head again.

"That's okay," he assures. "Has your nervousness ever caused a change in your every day life? Like going places or talking to people?"

"Sometimes," I reply, although it's most of the time. I probably wouldn't go to school if I could get an education at home.

He lets out a breath and I quickly glance up at him before looking again away.

"I'm sure you're aware of anxiety disorders?" He speaks and I nod. "It looks like you're showing signs of one. It could just be socially, but it is still a problem that will make your life a bit harder."

"A disorder?" I repeat as if I didn't hear him the first time. My anxiety has always been anxiety. There's so many people that get anxiety like me and I've read so much about it, but it can't be severe enough to be a disorder. "I can't have a disorder. I'm fine. I just get nervous sometimes."

He nods, standing up from the bed. "It's common in people your age, and if you don't have treatment it can carry on into your adult life. If you want further testing, we could book you an appointment for later on in the week."

"No, it's fine," I deny. I can't get testing because my parents will find out, then they'll tell other people. Everyone would know and it would somehow get to the people at school. I'm a big enough freak to them already. I don't need some disorder on top of it all. It'll make everything worse.

"I'll figure something else out, but please don't tell my parents, okay? They-They wouldn't understand. I know how that sounds, but you don't know them. I get that they love me and they would just be trying to help, but they'll end up making it worse."

He flashes me a small, understanding smile.

"That's your decision," he says. "But the treatment for anxiety is very successful, and if you didn't want medication, you could try therapy."

"A therapist?" I can't talk about this to my own parents, so I can't say everything to someone I've just met. I hate thinking about it and I don't even know why I am the way I am so I don't know how I could explain it to someone else. "I don't think that's a good idea... But thanks."

"Are you sure?" He asks, looking down at me laying on the bed, a needle stuck in my arm with monitors attached to my chest. He can see the damage I've done to myself, but I don't want everyone else to see.

"I'm sure," I tell him.

"If you ever change your mind, you can call and book an appointment." He says and I nod. All I picture is bottles of pills with a list of countless side effects that might not make me better. "So if that's all, your parents are waiting for an update and I can give discharge papers to them so you can be out of here today."

"Thank you," I say, giving him a small smile and he nods, making his way towards the door.

"It's not a problem." He assures, walking out. As soon as he's gone, I'm wondering what to say to my parents.

" _I'm sure you're aware of anxiety disorders?"_

_"It looks like you're showing signs of one. It could just be socially, but it is still a problem that will make your life a bit harder."_

Make my life harder. No shit. My life has been nothing but hard.

There are people in the world with no homes that are starving and millions who have it much worse than a small mental disorder, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

I think of all the times people have said shit about me without flinching, having the confidence to laugh after because everyone know they're right. I lost count of how many times I cried over Louis for thinking that I liked him when he can't stand me. He did so much shit then lied about doing it in a second, but somehow I find that I like him all over again when we're alone - when he doesn't have friends to impress or people he needed to prove himself to. Even after that, he still won't want me, and I can't do much about that but wait for the feelings to stop.

"Marcel? God, I'm so glad you're okay." My mum's frantic voice enters the room as walks in holding hands with Robin.

_I wish I was okay_.

"The doctor said you had an anxiety attack and were dehydrated... I was so scared for you." SHe says, sitting on one of the beige chairs and take my hand.

"I'm feeling better," I assure her, although none of it is true.

"How did it happen?" Robin asks and I shrug, not knowing how to tell them this wasn't the first time and won't be the last time. Keeping this a secret won't be too hard if I've been hiding a lot about myself for a while.

"They said they don't know," I lie. "The doctor told me it just happens sometimes."

"Will it happen more?"

_Yes_.

"I hope not," I tell them. "But they said I can get discharged today."

"Of course, we just have some forms to fill out and we'll be ready to go." My mum smiles, patting my hand and I nod.

"Great," I say, wanting to leave the place that smells too much like sterilized death and illness.

"But are you feeling okay?" Robin asks and I nod.

"I have a bit of a headache, but it should be fine." I say. "I'll just be glad to go home."

"You're going to need a bit of rest... I can call the school and tell them you'll need a day off." My mum suggests and I shake my head.

"It was a small accident. I'll be fine by tomorrow." I say and they nod, not refusing. They would rather me go to school so I won't fall behind, but they're too kind to tell me that.

"That's fine," they agree. "We've planned a dinner tonight with Louis' family, but that's okay if you didn't want to go. We can cancel and plan it for another day."

"No, no. You don't have to do that." I deny. Even if I'm not in the hospital, I won't want to go, but I don't want them to cancel because of me. "I'll be fine by myself for a while. I'll probably just be in my room the whole night."

"Are you sure?" Robin asks.

"You guys don't get much free time. It'll be fine."

"I guess it'll just be the adults, then." She says with a smile. "Louis probably won't want to be there if you're not."

He'd rather be anywhere but with me.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," I say, barely joking. I can see him relieved that he won't have to be around me for an hour or two straight.

"Well I better go get that paperwork done so we can get out of here." Robin says. "Then maybe we'll grab you a treat for being so great." His teasing time makes me roll my eyes and laugh.

"I'm not a child _or_ a dog. I'm sure I'll be fine if we just head home." I say and he chuckles.

"You were more fun when you were younger." He comments and I shrug.

"Times have changed," I smile and he stands to his feet, unaware of how real the statement is.

My mum stands up with him and they make their way to the door, saying, "We'll be right back."

They leave the room and I sigh, clapsing my hands together.

I can't tell them about the possibility of a disorder because they'll get me endless bottles of pills until the doctors say I'm better. I'll be going to therapy appointments at least once a week and my parents will never look at me the same. I'll always be fragile to them and the rest of my family because they'll all eventually find out. I'll be sympathized more than I'd like and I don't want that to happen. I'll be fine without all of that.

I close my eyes and my mind drifts off to Louis for the millionth time since I knew him. This is toxic for me, but I've never found a way to stop it. I wonder what it would be like if he was here right now and if he actually wanted me at that party because he wanted to be friends with me. I think I'd be able to tell him about what the doctor said and he could've laughed, saying there isn't anything wrong with me. I could've been okay with just that. Friends would have been enough to make it through high school and I wouldn't be alone so much if he were here.

I've never had real friends since I was young, and if I had Louis, he would make things better. Memories of him doing good things and bad things bleed into all my thoughts and I won't be able to choose which things about him I want to remember. None of it will make being without him hurt any less, though. In this situation, the pain isn't unbearable. In this situation, it hadn't suffocated me yet and I am still breathing.

So in this situation, it will be enough. In this situation, life without him will be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back up to breathe.

Songs for this chapter:

[Trust Me - The Fray](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9xzi1e8z0Q)

[We Never Change - Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZSobH1wiiM)

 

"I need you after school and I didn't do that shit to you last weekend." Louis says and I jump a little, looking down at him. My thoughts go blank for the few seconds he first stands in front of me and soon enough, I make an idiot out of myself.

"What?" I ask as if my brain genuinely has no function, because I know what he's talking about

"The party last weekend. That wasn't me." He repeats, then as I start to gain intelligence again, my body grows cold and I close my locker, beginning to walk away from him. I don't want to fight about this again. People still stare at me and laugh when I walk down the halls, and he's only saying this now because he needs something. He'd keep ignoring me and laughing with his friends if he didn't want something from me.

"It was Sam and Trent and Emma and everyone else, but I didn't have any idea what they were doing." He explains and I bite my tongue, shaking my head.

"Sure," I say, only hoping it will make him leave.

"I'm serious," he goes on, still walking beside me. "I didn't know."

"You didn't know about anything that was happening?" I ask. "None of them told you and you didn't make any plans to get all those pictures of me?"

He hesitates a second too long.

"Well they told me after everything was planned, but I didn't really know because they knew I'd stop them but I still tried to get you away from everything." He says and I don't know why he keeps using that excuse. If he knew something was going to happen, he would have stopped it if he wanted to.

"You barely tried. If you told me what they were doing I might have left with you." I remind him and he just sighs, getting annoyed the more I'm around him.

"You should have known something was going to happen. Emma was all over you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I wonder, but I know the answer. I sure as hell don't care if girls like me or not, but the fact that someone pretended to as a joke makes me ill. I should have never left the house that night. It was stupid of me to think Louis wanted to be around me with his friends knowing.

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that," he lies. "It's just - she's still with Ian and-"

"You told me they broke up," I interject, the feelings of stupidity coming back again. They've been dating for ages and I'd be the last person she'd want, even if it was just a rebound thing. I shouldn't have cared either, there was no way I would be able to actually like her.

"Yeah, but-"

"Just stop, Louis," I plead. "This is ridiculous. I get that you don't like me and I'm not surprised, so you don't have to keep making excuses."

"I'm not-" He looks at me, then groans in frustration. "Fuck, come on."

He wraps his hand around my arm and begins pulling me towards the lunch room, where all the students are going to be gathered for the next hour.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to pull away from his strong grip.

"Just keep walking," he speaks, bringing me towards the table where he usually sits with all his friends.

They spot him and immediately look at me with him then between each other, the expressions on their faces changing.

"Louis, stop. Don't," I say, trying to pull away again. I don't know he's doing, but I don't want to be around his friends. They never have anything good to say when they see me and they never will, but he still gets me in front of them and I look to Sam, who's looking from Louis to me, and then to Ian with his arm around Emma. I stop there, not able to look at anyone else. I'd rather die than be here.

"What are you doing?" I mumble, looking down at my feet so they can't see my face burning red. All their eyes are on me and I'm waiting for them to ask why I'm around them.

"Apologize," Louis speaks loud and clear and my head snaps up because he isn't talking to me. He's looking straight at all the people sitting in front of him, who are looking back at him in confusion.

"What?" Sam snorts, but Louis doesn't back down.

"Apologize to him for all the shit you started last weekend and everything else." He demands and I look over at him, wanting it to stop. This is going to make things worse. For over a year they've never been guilty, so I couldn't imagine them only beginning now, even if Louis told them to. They're just going to be shitty to him too.

"Why the hell would we do that?" Trent scoffs, everyone staring at Louis like he's insane. My heart beats rapidly, pounding against my rib cage. I want to tell Louis to stop again, but everyone is staring and my throat is too dry to speak.

"Because it's fucking disgusting," he states without a faltering of his confidence. "You got goddamn pictures of him like that."

"Since when do you care about him?" Adam retorts, crossing his arms. I look over at Louis and wish I could stop him because they talk about me like I'm nowhere to be seen.

"You don't have to do this," I tell him, wanting to bolt for the door so I don't have to hear anything else they say or don't say.

"Yes I do," he says, still looking at them. "What they did last weekend was so fucking wrong and they shouldn't have done it-"

"You're only complaining because your parents bitched at you for throwing a party." Adam interrupts.

"I don't care if they bitched at me because that doesn't have to do with you." He snaps. "Do you know what would happen if he told people what you did?"

"He didn't, so I honestly don't care." Sam shrugs and I look around, thinking of any excuse to get me out of here. They aren't going to apologize, no matter what Louis says.

"He still could," Louis tells them. "Everyone at this school has pictures of him naked on their fucking phones. Tell me how wrong that is."

"Louis," I say firmly, but he ignores me.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Marcie says with a laugh. "It's not like he's got anything to be ashamed of." She winks at me and I blush harder. My head is beginning to throb and I'm hot and can't bring myself to look at anyone.

"I'm leaving," I tell Louis, taking one step before he pulls me back and holding me in place.

"They're going to apologize," he insists and I shake my head, pulling back from his grip. I don't want them looking at me anymore. They've already looked at me for too long.

"No we're not," they say and I walk away, not letting Louis pull me back.

I hear him saying stuff to them angrily, but I still get out of the crowded room before anyone else can notice me. I walk down the halls, every class door closed and lock, either empty or with teachers inside.

"Marcel!" Louis' voice calls, but I walk faster. I have no where to go and Louis is going to keep walking after me and I want to cry again but I can't let myself do that. I can't let him see that, or anyone else.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks and I stop walking, giving up on trying to get away. It's no use and I can't be any more embarrassed than I already am.

"I can't believe you did that," I say, turning away from him.

"I'm trying to help you," he says again and I shake my head.

"That's only because you want something from me." He knows I'm right but he won't admit it.

"If you help me, I'll promise to stop being such a dick."

"Yeah, okay." I roll my eyes. This can't be worth it. He'll just end up disappointing me again and I'm a goddamn idiot if I give in and let him.

"I'm serious," He says, and I turn around, surprised he's still going on about this. I don't know what he needs, but it seems to be huge enough stop everything he's done in the past year. "You're smart. Like - Valedictorian smart, and I need to get into university. If I don't, I won't get on the football team I've wanted to be on since I was a fucking kid and my dad has been nagging me to get my grades up. Believe it or not, I actually used to be smart in school-"

"Don't do that," I interject.

"What?"

"Pressure me into feeling bad for you so I'll help you." I say. He's probably done this with other people but he can't think I'm an idiot. "Find someone else you don't hate so much."

"I don't hate you and there isn't anyone else I know." He explains, but the only true part of that is 'there isn't anyone else I know' because none of his friends would do this for him. "I'll pay you."

"I don't need money," I say, and he knows that because we both get so much money from our parents that we don't even know what to do with it.

"I'll get everyone to apologize."

"They don't want to, so don't make them."

"I'll-"

"Just stop," I beg. I'm tired of fighting and tired of him using me like this. He doesn't get to act nice then push me around again. I can't let him. It's going too far and he'll keep hurting me and try apologizing again and again. "There's tons of people that can help you. I'm not the only one."

"You're the only one I know," he insists. "I won't be such a douchebag, I promise."

"Don't promise that," I say, because he's just going learn that it's okay to forget about promises. "Ask your teachers for help."

"They don't have time to help me, they have a shit ton of other students and some kid who doesn't care about his marks isn't their first priority."

"If you don't care about your marks, then why are you insisting on me helping you?"

"Because I need to get out of this shithole and do something I care about." He looks like he regrets saying the words as soon as their spoken, but he doesn't take anything back. I shouldn't feel bad, but I do. He's cruel to me but he needs this. I won't expect him to be nice to me around his friends but maybe I can do something that would benefit. Maybe I can show him some goddamn compassion and he might learn something that doesn't have to do with school.

"What do you need?" I sigh and relief floods him.

"I still need you as a tutor. I haven't been getting my assignments and shit in and I have tests coming up." He says, letting out a relieved breath because I'm being an idiot once again. "I can't do anything after school today because of football practice, but after that I can. I can come to your place around six-thirty, then we can still do the Mondays and Fridays thing."

"Okay," I agree quietly. "When is your next test?"

"Tomorrow," he answers and my eyes widen.

" _Tomorrow_?" I repeat, wishing I could understand why I'm doing this. It's going to be stressful if I'm going to keep up with my own classes too and I'm not going to get anything out of it. It's going to take ages to get him to be nice to me in front of other people. "You haven't started studying yet?"

"Last minute is kind of how I deal with things right now." He admits, and I think of laughing before I stop myself.

"Is it the biology test?" I ask and he nods.

"Okay," I agree, trying to plan what the hell I'm going to do. "Six-thirty."

"Six-thirty," he confirms, giving me a tight smile before he walks out of the room.

_Six-thirty._

  
Louis' POV

I drive to Marcel's with my bag in the passenger's seat, tapping on the steering wheel and hope this won't take too long. It's embarrassing enough that I said that shit in front of everyone, but I'm slowly starting to fail. I told myself last year I won't let it happen again, but things keep getting in the way. Marcel will always do something for me if I ask him, anyway. He's whipped and doesn't know how to say no. The guilt card works more often than not, especially on him.

I park in the driveway and grab my bag, walking up to the front door to ring the bell, waiting a few long seconds that make me impatient. I rock back on my heels before I hear footsteps getting closer and closer, then watch the door open. Marcel stands in front of me, out of his uniform and into joggers and a loose Rolling Stones top that looks well-worn.

"Hey," he briefly greets, stepping aside to let me in. He doesn't look comfortable with me being here, and I don't blame him. If I were him, I would blame me for all those damn pictures but I'm not nearly fucked up enough to think of that or go around showing them to other people while laughing.

"Hey," I walk inside, taking off my shoes and coat and place them out of the way. "I brought my textbook and stuff."

"Good. I - um - Let's... Lets go upstairs. To my bedroom. My parents are going to be home and it'll be quieter up there." He suggests and I nod, wondering why the hell he's so nervous all the time. He acts like I'm going to lash out at him any second, but I've done that before so once again, I don't blame him. I just have to teach myself how to calm the fuck down when he pisses me off.

"Sure," I agree, and we walk upstairs in silence, going into his bedroom. He walks past his wide, neat desk and sits on his bed, next to his pillows. I place myself on the opposite side, resting my bag on the mattress beside me. Everything is in such a perfect arrangement that you'd think this was a furniture shop, and I don't know whether to be annoyed or envious that he has his life together.

"You've probably already started studying, but I was hoping we could review - well, everything." I tell him. He's probably shocked at how little I seem to care about my education, but it's too late to give a shit about what he thinks of me.

"Everything?" He wonders, and I nod.

"Yeah... The whole last minute thing includes learning everything last minute." I say, leaving him to stare at me in disbelief.

"Seriously?" He asks and I nod. I'm aware it's bad and I should have looked at everything we learned much sooner, but I'm barely making time to study with him. I've been focusing on football so much and it's always been a bigger priority, until now when the whole _you-actually-have-to-do-well-in-school-to-get-on-the-team_ thing set in.

"Well in that case, we'll review everything. But I'm not a magician that will make you insanely smart over night, so I'll just help you pass. Even if that means you barely pass." He tells me, but I don't care because as this point, I typically see the barely-passing number on the corner of my schoolwork.

"It won't be new to me," I tell him, and he nods.

"Well if you get sixties with memorizing everything in one night, you'll get higher marks actually learning it." He lets out a laugh without making much noise and while I keep asking myself how it's possible for him to be so quiet, he gets his own textbook out. "Please tell me you at least pay attention in class and know some of what we learned?"

I nod. It's the only thing I remember. "Senses and stuff. Like seeing and hearing."

"Well that's a start..." He says, getting out a notebook. I can barely write a sentence before Mr. Reynolds switches to the next section, but I'm not surprised Marcel keeps up. His neat handwriting is etched across the page so delicately you'd think it came from a computer. "So well start off with the first section. It - The... The best thing would probably be to learn the vocabulary. In my old middle school, I had a teacher that taught us to use these things called M&M Cards and they helped a lot, so I never really stopped using them." He takes out a flash card, flipping it over. "Say we were doing sensory adaptation... You write down the definition in your own words, then something that will help you remember it. Like a word or picture. It's supposed to help."

"Seems simple enough." I say with a nod, but hate the idea of having to write so much down. It seems like a waste of time.

"This chapter has about fifteen words per section." He tells me and I bury my face in my hands, already feeling a headache coming on.

"Shit..." I groan and he laughs.

"I'll let you get started."

~*~

"Aqueous humour?" He asks and I open my mouth, ready to say the exact answer, but my mind goes blank.

"Shit, what's the example?"

I know it's one of the first thing I wrote, but that's all I can pull from my memory. He looks down at the card then back up me. He gives me that are-you-kidding-me look and sighs.

"Water laughing," he replies, trying to hold his smile back and I grin, the answer coming back to me.

"Water laughing," I repeat. "The liquid that protects the eye. It's gives the cornea nutrients."

He nods, laughing a bit more. "And how does that have to do with... _'Water laughing?'_ " He wonders.

"Water is aqua. Aqua is aqueous. Laughing is healthy, health brings nutrients. I just remember the other words from there." I explain. It sounds stupid, but if I remember it I hope that's all I'll need.

"Whatever works for you," He agrees, putting the card down.

I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket and would normally ignore it so I could get more done, but it doesn't stop. I take it out and my home number is displayed on the screen.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Where are you?" My mums voice asks and I sigh, standing up.

"I'll be right back," I tell Marcel and he nods before I leave the room. She'll probably yell at me and that's the last thing I need someone to witness.

"You said you would come home right after football, where are you?" She says and I lean against the wall.

"I'm at Marcel's," I tell her. She loves him so I don't see her getting mad like she does when I'm with Sam.

"Oh," she answers, surprised by my answer as much as I am. "Well you're still grounded. You aren't allowed to be with friends."

 _Friends_.

"I know, but you said I could go places if it's school-related." I remind her.

"And how is this school-related?" She questions, ready to lash out.

"He's tutoring me. I have a biology thing tomorrow." I tell her and there's a small pause.

"Oh," she says again and I smirk. This might not be the worst excuse. If I use it more often, maybe my grounding won't be so terrible. "Well you should come home anyway. You're father and I are home for dinner tonight and I'd like for you to join us."

'I'd like for you to join us' is her way of saying 'Come home, you're having dinner with us and don't have a choice. Maybe we won't fight so much if you're around.'

"I'll be there in a bit," I tell her, saying a quick goodbye before leaving back into Marcel's room. It's strange that I'd actually rather be here than at my house.

Marcel looks up at me and I take my place on the edge of his bed, gathering my things.

"I have to go," I say. "I'm grounded because of the whole party thing, so the only way I can get out of that is to do whatever my parents tell me to."

He lets out a small laugh, looking down at his hands. "That's fine." He agrees, giving me the cards I made. "Here."

"Thanks," I put everything in my bag again, an awkward silence filling the room while I stand up. He gets off the bed, his eyes nervously flickering around the room because he doesn't know how to break the silence, just like I don't. We're not supposed to be getting along, but I flash him a brief smile so the tension is less harsh. "I'll - I'll see you at school?"

He scratches the back of his neck and nods before putting his hands together behind his back. "See you at school."

  
Marcel's POV

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

_This is nothing._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selective beliefs.

Songs for this chapter:

[Trust Me - The Fray](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9xzi1e8z0Q)

[Ashes and Wine - A Fine Frenzy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4m-j2o7yUk)

 

Marcel's POV

I slide into my desk, quietly taking my books out while I ignore the hum of chatter that doesn't involve me. Everyone is busy talking, but my eyes are focused on  the spot where Louis will be sitting. I bite the flesh inside my cheek, forcing away my smile because I don't want to get my hopes up. Anything could happen and he might stop talking to me again. I might say the wrong thing and offend him and even if we became friends, he might realise I'm too introverted to hang out. He could see one of my stupid anxiety attacks and get freaked out. That alone could be enough to convince him I'm insane. I think a lot of people would believe that.

I tap my thumb against my desk, bouncing my knee to release some of my energy as more students pile into the room. I keep my eyes on the door, waiting for Louis to walk in, and every person that comes inside isn't him - just like the guy who takes his seat next to me.

"Is Louis actually retarded?" He asks and I frown, trying to remember his name and if I even heard the question correctly.

"What?" I say, my eyes flickering around to the people listening in on us.

"Louis Tomlinson. Someone told me you said he was retarded? That's why you're tutoring him?" He wonders and they're all waiting for an answer I don't have. I don't see who would make this up or how people found out we were even tutoring together. Louis is pretty good at keeping things a secret.

"Who told you that?" My cheeks get warm the more I notice all the attention on me.

"Jeremy," he replies and I don't think I've ever talked to someone named Jeremy before. "Sarah told him."

"Sorry, but what's your name?" I wonder, because I've only seen him in this class and he always sits at the back of the room, away from me. My question makes him laugh, and my cheeks grow hotter.

"Tyrel," he says and I look around at everyone again. They're acting like it isn't obvious how careful they're listening.

"Well I didn't say anything about Louis." I tell him, making sure everyone around me hears. He might murder me if I said something like that and any chance of us being friends would be gone. I don't have a reason to say that to someone, and no one talks to me enough to even give me a chance. Louis is smart anyway, and even if he was shitty to me before, I'm obviously not the type of person to want revenge. I should have just told Tyrel Louis is smart.

"Then who did?" He asks and I shrug, wanting him to leave before Louis gets here. "Are you sure it wasn't you?"

"I'm sure," I insist and looks like he's going to ask another question, but closes his mouth and leaves. I don't think he believes me, but I'm a shit liar most of the time so he'd know if I was lying. 

Another body sits down in the desk again and I look beside me, seeing Louis. His hair is dishevelled, sticking out in different, careless directions. His eyebrows are furrowed together and his pale skin and grey eyes give him a cold and hard look. When stares up at the front of the room while Mrs. Argon begins talking, and I think about saying hi, but he doesn't even acknowledge that I'm next to him. My heart throbs because he has to know what everyone is saying, and he probably thinks I'm the one that started it all. We won't be making progress anymore if he doesn't believe I wouldn't say anything.

 

He doesn't speak to me at all during the lesson, and I can't pay attention to what's going on around me because I'm worrying about what he's going to say when he gets mad at me. He's probably going to yell and be rude if I don't get the chance to talk first. He should believe me though. I honestly don't have a reason to talk about him in that way.

When the bell rings, I'm hot and my palms have developed a sweaty layer. People are staring at us even if Louis still hasn't look at me, but when I pick up my books he wraps his hand around my arm tightly. He makes sure I follow him out of the room and I think about pulling away but there shouldn't be anything I'm afraid of. I didn't say anything.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" He asks once we're distant from the classroom, but there are still students around us and they're going to keep staring until we walk away from each other.

"I didn't do anything," I deny, rubbing the sore spot on my arm.

"Bullshit," he spits. "Everyone knows what you said, so why the hell did you do it? Did you think it was funny?"

"I didn't say anything. They're lying," I tell him, but the louder his voice gets, the more people linger by their lockers a little longer to watch us.

"Obviously not if everyone knows," he says. His muscles are tense and he speaks through gritted teeth, like he's doing everything he can to keep his hands at his sides. "I actually told you I wouldn't be such a dick to you, then you go ahead and do shit like this? No wonder why everyone can't stand you."

I cringe, fingernails digging into my palms. I knew this would happen, but he should believe me.

"I thought things were fine between us. I didn't even do anything." He goes on.

"Well I didn't say anything!" I defend, frustrated and don't know what could convince him. Just because he's embarrassed about this he has to make me feel like shit. He needs everyone to know that he's better and he's too damn insecure to be wrong for once. Fighting his way out of things is his way of coping and it doesn't make any sense. It's childish and he needs to learn how to stop.

"Stop pretending like you didn't. It's not going to change my mind." He snaps. "I can't fucking believe you."

"Remember how you tried helping me at the party?" I ask, and that's enough to keep him quiet. For now, anyway. "This is me trying to help you. I get that you're angry, but I'd bet anything on being right about this. I didn't say anything."

"Who the fuck else would say that shit?" He yells, throwing his hands up. He acts like there aren't any other people around, and he's going to hate me even more when he realises he's wrong and they've all witnessed it.

"Did you even think of those people you call your friends? They know you talk to me now." I remind him and he roll his eyes.

"They wouldn't do shit like this."

"How do you know? They do it to me all the time."

"Because it's you," he says it without thinking and I wish I was deaf so the words wouldn't repeat over and over in my mind. I wish he didn't say he was going to be nice and I wish I didn't think we were friends and I wish his friends didn't care and I wish that wishing would fucking work some day.

"They're the only ones who saw you sticking up for me. You tried getting them to apologize." I say. I need him to believe me because for once I don't feel so goddamn alone in this place. He's the closest thing I had to a friend in years and I don't want to mess that up, even if he's the one messing it up most of the time.

"What's going on?" A new voice enters the hall and the students around us begin to scatter, acting like they were minding their own business.

Louis glares at me and shakes his head. "Nothing," he answers, walking away.

I look to Mr. Reeves as he comes out of a classroom, sternly looking between the both of us. He's suspicious, but Louis is already walking away and Mr. Reeves didn't see or hear enough to do anything about it. It's just another thing added onto the last time Louis and I fought.

"We're fine," I tell him and he gives me a slow nod, his eyes lingering on Louis walking down the hall before he enters the classroom again.

_We're fine and we always lie about it._

 

 

Louis' POV

I get home after practice, not bothering to do anything productive like I should have.

I'm too angry at Marcel and everyone can't keep their fucking mouths shut about what he said. It's fucking stupid and I shouldn't have even thought of being nice to him. I know I'm shitty person for being such a dick to him all those years, but now he deserves it. I'm not a fucking retard and he has no right telling everybody bullshit like that.

"Louis, are you home?" My mums voice echoes downstairs and I sigh.

"In here," I tell her, staring blankly at the TV and hear her footsteps getting louder. She opens my door, but just sticks her head inside to talk. Most people would barge in and make themselves comfortable, but I'm happy she knows me enough to get that I can't stand it when people do that.

"We're having people over for dinner, did you want to help me out for a few minutes?"

"Who's coming here?" I ask, diverting the attention away my helping her. I'd probably mess something up anyway, but she's asking me because it's not like my dad is going to do shit.

"Anne and Robin," she answers, and I have to hold back a long and irritated groan.

_No fucking shit._

"Just them?" I wonder, crossing my fingers and repeatedly picture her saying yes. I'm not in the mood to play nice with Marcel. I'd rather be completely fucking rude than laugh and act like he's my friend. He doesn't deserve that.

"Marcel is probably coming too," she speaks like it isn't a big deal and I pinch at the skin on my palm, distracting myself from how much I would rather jump in front of a train than be around him. I still can't fucking believe he'd do that. I should have known he would've fucked something up sooner or later.

"Well I have a ton of schoolwork to catch up on, so I'll probably just be in the bedroom tonight." I lie. I don't have anything to do. Well I could, but all of it is usually done with Marcel and I don't need to spend any more time with him.

"I'm sure you could spare an hour just to eat with us. Besides, isn't Marcel helping you out with some classes?" She wonders.

"It was only a few times. Not anymore." It's taken me so little of time to figure out how to make excuses and white lies for shit, like having Marcel over. Everyone believes me and no one gets hurt so I don't see any reason to stop.

"I still think you should come down and visit for a while." She insists and she probably thinks I'm being more rude than it appears, but it's not like I can tell her everything that's going on at school.

"Like I said, I have a lot of stuff to do." I turn off the television and stand up. The longer I sit here, the longer she'll argue, guilting me into eating with them. If I look like I'm doing something she might not bother me. "I actually better get started, but if I take a break I'll come down to see everyone for a while." The break will last for about two hours and involve sitting in bed until everyone is gone, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Thank you," she appreciates it and I nod like I'm serious, watching her leave my room so I can start avoiding everything before it starts, turning on my television again.

Getting through tonight will be easier than going to school tomorrow and hear what everyone twisted that fucking rumour to be overnight. It might turn into me having some fucking disease for all I know and I can't let Marcel think I'll just forgive him for it. I never really had a reason to hate him so much before, but this should be good enough. He can make up any amount of shitty excuses and I'll still get him back for it.

 

Marcel's POV

Going to Louis' again is risky and I'm sure my hands are shaking the whole time I drive there. I know I didn't say anything about him, but he thinks I did, so he's going to treat me like I did.

I can't think of a way to tell him I didn't say it, but if we talk he'll start yelling at me again. The only thing that will work was if I knew who started saying stuff to him. There's about five hundred kids at school and everyone knew who the seniors are, especially Louis Tomlinson. Anybody could have started something.

I pull into the driveway with my parents and get out of the car. The collar of my shirt is getting too tight, making it harder to breath properly, but the more I adjust it, the more it's uncomfortable.

When Johannah opens the door and welcomes us with brief hugs that seems so long that my claustrophobic anxiety clues in.

"It's so great to see you again..." She begins, smiling at my mother as we follow her to the lounge.

My eyes flicker for Louis' angry face everywhere within in my vision, but he isn't in the room and doesn't walk out to glare at me. I won't be surprised if he made some excuse to leave the house so he could continue avoiding me.

"Louis has schoolwork he's doing upstairs, so he won't be visiting too much tonight." She tell us and I nod.

_Makes sense._

"I told him to come and say a quick hello if he gets the chance, but I highly doubt he's actually doing any homework." She jokes, which is completely right. The last thing he'll want is to be around me and pretend to like me.

"Actually, I'm sure Louis only gets his work completed while he's with you." She directs her comment towards me and I hate how my cheeks get hot. I know that's the whole reason we started doing the assignments and everything together, but now everyone is focused on me and my parents are giving me that we're-so-proud-of-you look I can live without.

"It's not a big deal," I say, even though it is a big deal. I'm busy with a lot of my own classes, even if it only ended up being a few weeks. He'd get angry with me over something or we'd get into a fight and he'd avoid me, or make me feel like shit, so there wouldn't be much studying going on.

"We'll I'm glad you're doing it. He seems to be improving."

I nod again, not knowing what to say because I didn't think we'd be doing this anymore. If he's hiding in his bedroom just so he doesn't have to look at me, I doubt we'll ever be seeing each other after school anymore.

The dinner goes by quickly, and I'm hoping we will be leaving soon so I don't have to make awkward replies to someone whenever they ask me a question. My parents are too chatty, and I would drive home if my mum wouldn't tell me I should stay. It's her way of telling me I'm going to stay and socialize with people instead of being so isolated all the time.

So I stay.

We all sit in the lounge with the television on quietly in the background. The three people around me make light conversation and I pretend to be interested, nodding and smiling until footsteps outside of the room got louder.

My heart races and my knee bounces and I'm just hoping and praying that Louis doesn't come over here and pretend like everything is okay. When he starts to walk away, I start to calm down until Troy decides to say something.

"Louis?" He asks and the footsteps stop, walking back towards the room. I clasp my hands together so I don't rub them together, looking down as Louis comes into the room.

"Hey," he greets, barely taking more than a step inside.

"If you're taking a break, you should do something with Marcel for a while." Johannah suddenly suggests. I look towards her and she smiles at Louis, but I want him to say no. "He's been down here with adults all night and I'm sure that's the last thing teenagers want."

His eyes flicker over to me for less than a second. "I'm actually really busy-" He begins, ready make any excuse from any sort of insistence.

"I'm sure it isn't that important. Plus, I wouldn't be surprised if Marcel is looking for an excuse to get away for a while." She replies with a small laugh and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine," I assure. If we're forced to go off with each other, he would leave me in his bedroom again and lock himself in the loo like the first time I came over here.

"You honestly don't need to stay down here." My mum insists, trying to be kind but I honestly want to be anywhere but with Louis. "I'm sure you'd want to spend more time with your friends, anyway."

_Friends._

"Louis has stuff to do-"

"He probably needs a little time off too." She says and Louis lets out a sigh. I'm waiting for him to yell or say something to me or call me a fag in front of everyone, but he just looks at me calmly, forcing a smile.

"Let's go," he says and I look over at him, not moving.

"What?" I ask, feeling everyone's eyes on me at the strange question.

"Come on," he nudges his head towards me and I hesitantly stand with, waiting for everyone to laugh and say _just kidding_.

He starts walking away and I follow him, glancing back at everyone else.

We walk upstairs silently and he leads me into his bedroom, closing the door behind me. As if I'm not here, he lays on his bed and pulls out his phone, tapping things on the screen while some movie plays on his television. I look around the room awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Standing, I feel five feet taller and wider. Everything is quiet and I want to say something that won't make this so uncomfortable. I feel myself blushing and wish it would stop, but Louis hates me again and I'm standing right in front of him making a complete fool of myself.

He doesn't want me here and I wish I hadn't agreed to coming up. My parents will stretch this visit out until midnight if they want, and I don't want to be stuck up here the whole time. I think of sitting down, but the only chair in the room has a small pile of clothing on it and I can see Louis hating me a little more if I move it to take a seat.

I don't know how I long I'm standing there, rubbing my fingers together and occasionally wipe the layer of sweat from my palms on my jeans. I start counting to sixty, and the third time, Louis drops his phone and sits up, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed.

"Why did you do it?" He asks, the tone of his voice so loud after so much silence.

"I didn't do anything," I tell him yet again, but don't expect him to believe me.

"Bullshit," He denies. "I don't see who else would do it, so why did you say it?"

I sigh, shaking my head and look down at my feet. "If I did it, I wouldn't keep saying I didn't for this long. You don't even know who it was." I sat. He's being too impulsive over this.

"Okay," he begins, folding his arms over his chest. "Who did it then? If it wasn't you?"

"I don't know-" I answer, cut off with his laugh.

"Well if you don't come up with someone else, I'm just going to assume it was you."

"I swear it wasn't me," I repeat, almost groaning at how childish this is. "It could have been Sam or Ian. Emma might have said something too. They hate that you were with me. And when you tried to get them to apologize, they weren't in the best mood."

"Yeah, sure," he sand. "They wouldn't go around telling people that shit because I told them to apologize." He shoves his phone in his pocket and stands up. "If they did, they know they'd get into shit for it like you are." He tells me firmly. "Do you know how many people are in our school that know? Fuck, or just how many people stare at me and laugh because they think I'm a fucking retard?" He says the words confidently and I stare at him in disbelief. It has been one day and he talks like it's been going on for years.

"Do you know how many people stare at _me_ because of you?" I ask him, my voice getting louder out of frustration. My fists clench at my side and I feel the urge to throw it against something hard. "Every goddamn day, at least one person looks at me like that and it's always because of you. Whenever you pull those pranks or say things in front of everyone, people laugh when they look at me." He's annoyed by my words but I'm pissed off he even thought he has it bad. "Don't act like everyone in the entire school hates you."

"I didn't say they did."

"But you're sure as hell acting like it." I point out. "I'd rather have people start one little rumour about me than go through everything you've done to me."

"Whatever, it wasn't even that bad," he objects and my eyes widen.

"Not that bad?" I repeat. "Is 'not that bad' having literally everyone look at you like you're a freak? Is it walking into school terrified that you're going to be humiliated again? Is it having no friends because one person decided they were going to make a complete arse out of you whenever they could?"

He sighs, looking away from me. He's guilty, but I have no sympathy for him anymore. "Marcel-"

"No," I interrupt. "I'm done trying to prove that I'm not you. I don't go around saying things about people when I know they're not true. I don't make fun of people for my own enjoyment."

He look like he wants to say something, but can't wrap his thought around a coherent sentence. "I said I was sorry about the stuff I did." He blurts out and I immediately cringe.

"You're not sorry. You just don't want another person to be shitty to you." I correct. I can't believe he's trying to make himself seem like the better person.

"What if I _was_ sorry?" He asks.

"Then we would have been acting like we were two days ago and you wouldn't believed I'd start rumours about you."

He pauses, letting out a deep breath. There are frown lines between his eyebrows and he runs his fingers through his dark hair, looking at me with an expression I can't pick out. It might be a mix of regret and embarrassment and anger all at once.

"You really didn't do it, did you?" He asks and I shake my head.

"No, but you deserve this and I'm starting to wish I did." I admit.

I'm being somewhat truthful, but other parts of me are just saying it so I can hurt him. I'm always too caught up in the fact that he smiles like an angel, ending up forgiving whatever it is he did to me. I'm taking chances with it all, unaware if fighting to be friends will be worth it. He never thought of me as a friend for more than a year. I don't want to try proving myself to him because I know he won't believe me until he finds out who actually did it. I'm not going to wait around for the smallest possibility that something good will come from it. He deserves every bit of this for everything he has ever done to me and I hope they turn the damn rumour into something that would actually make him feel like I did.

He's looking at me in shock right now, not saying anything. His mouth is open and his eyes are wide, and if I stay any longer he'll start yelling at me and find another excuse to be mad.

I let out a deep breath, leaving him behind as I walk out the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What makes you happy?

* * *

Songs for this chapter:

[Clarity - John Mayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULrz-6CSmmM)

[You Make It Real - James Morrison](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rRxccy-zcJ8)

[Certain Things - James Arthur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44GmZdn6_oo)

 

Louis' POV

I sit down at the table with my tray of food that's too fancy to be served at a school. It should be made at restaurants and served with wine, not given to students who chose it because they're used to being given everything they want.

"Heard something was going on with you. Is everything alright?" Sam asks and I look away, still pissed off with the shit coming out of everyone's mouths.

"Fuck off," I snap, tearing the corner of my napkin. I don't want to be here and I sure as hell don't want to sit around everyone as they talk about me having disorders that make me retarded.

"It's okay to talk about it, at least your getting tutoring with Marcel so he can help you out." He continues and my teeth grind together, stopping me from saying something that will get everyone defending him instead of helping me out.

"It's getting old," I speak through my gritted teeth and my gaze glowers. He's going to be the last person at this table to back down.

He laughs guilt-free, "It's only been a few days."

"And I still can't believe that shithead said something about me and you're all still talking about it." I sneer, my fingernails digging into my palm painfully when my hands squeeze into fists. He shouldn't have the balls to say all that when he knows how fucking miserable I can make him.

"You know who said it?" Amanda wonders.

"Marcel, obviously." Even after the shit he said the other day, I don't see who else would spread it around. He's just angry that I'm angry at him again or thought he wouldn't get caught.

"You think Marcel did it?" Adam scoffs, leaning forward. "The Marcel who can barely look you in the eye or talk to people without stuttering?"

"Well who else would it be?" I retort. It makes sense that he wouldn't want to say anything, but no one else is coming up with a better answers.

"Maybe the shithead who keeps bugging you about it." He points to Sam, who's looking at me with a large, cocky smile.

 _Fuck_.

"Come on, mate. Take a joke. You used to be fun." He says, relaxed.

_Fucking idiot._

"You think it's fun letting the whole school think I'm retarded?" My voice gets louder and Amanda's hand rests on mine.

"Louis," she warns, trying to get me to stop. I'm not going to take this shit from her either.

I pull my hand away. "It's not fucking funny," I say.

"Shit, I didn't think you'd get this upset about it." He chuckles, leaning back in his chair like he still doesn't care.

"The whole fucking school knows, why wouldn't I get mad?"

"People are staring," Amanda interjects, but I brush her off.

"I don't give a shit. They can stare all they want." I sneer, looking around at them. Their eyes move away from me sheepishly. "Why did you do it?"

"Because I thought it would be funny. And because you've been so possessive over Marcel. Are you guys dating or something?" He lets out another laugh and the thought makes me flinch.

"Fuck no. You're disgusting." I spit and he laughs a bit harder.

"Woah..."

"Calm down, Louis. It was just a joke." Ian joins in and I stand up.

"Then I'm glad you all had a good fucking laugh." I walk away, leaving my tray because I don't want to carry it and because someone will make them clean it up.

I walk to the doors and one of the new teachers sitting by the door stands up.

"Where are you going? You shouldn't leave this room during lunch period." He tells me, trying to be firm and strict. I can tell I sill intimidate him. He's thin and tall and his glasses sit on his large nose at a weird angle. He wears a tie and sweater vest and his lips are strangely thin, making his words sound weird when he speaks.

"I have to talk with one of my teachers."

"It can wait until one o'clock."

"It's urgent, and I have a different class after this." I lie, trying to come off nice as possible so I'll get on his good side. He doesn't know me and doesn't know how much of an arse I usually an, so I can make my lie more believable.

"I'm sure it can wait until later on."

"It's urgent," I repeat. "A... Personal matter I'd rather not talk about with other students around."

He sighs, dropping his arms to his sides. He adjusts his glasses, though it doesn't really make much of a difference. "This is the only time." He opens the door and I flash him a smile that makes my cheeks and head hurt.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"As long as it doesn't happen again." He says and I agree, stepping out into the quiet halls.

" _Dipshit,"_  I murmur, unaware of where I'm going but I don't want to be in a room with all those damn people.

I'm a fucking idiot for blaming Marcel because it's only now obvious it wasn't him. Sam was the one talking the most shit about everything and Marcel wouldn't say anything about me, no matter how much he wanted to. He knows not to and probably thought we were friends, so ended up acting like my fucking golden retriever or something. He'll probably find out later on today with the people who were listening too closely ten minutes ago, ready to tell everyone else what happened. He won't mind saying _I told you so_ over and over again. He'll want to rub it in my face more than anyone, and get the chance when we have tutoring. I could always skip, but our maths test is tomorrow and I have no fucking clue what we're doing. I can only stay about a half an hour to catch up and I'lll be able to tolerate him. I just need to pass.

I wander the halls aimlessly, trying to avoid the windows of the rooms with instructors inside and go back to my locker when the bell rings for me to head to biology. Students flood the halls within sixty seconds and I'm making my way through the crowd impatiently when someone's shoulder hits mine.

"Walk much?" I stumble back a bit, looking down at the person who's dropped their books. Everyone maneuvers their way around him like he doesn't matter and he acts like he was used to it.

"S-Sorry," Marcel apologizes and gathers his books in his arms again before standing up straight, looking at me. His expression hardens and his eyebrows push together.

"Sorry," I tell him quickly and he doesn't say a word. He brushes off my comment and I attempt to not look like a fucking idiot after all I blamed him for. He begins walking away before I catch his arm and bring him back.

"I know it wasn't you. And I know I'm a dick for saying all that shit to you, so you don't have to rub it in." I point out and his eyes flicker away from me.

"I have to get to class," he replies and I sigh. He's going to argue about this again and won't let me try being nice for once in his fucking life.

"I don't give a shit if you're mad at me still, I know I was wrong and I know Sam did it. And we have the same classes this afternoon, so don't think you're getting out of talking to me." I remind him, walking beside him down the hall.

"I'm not doing this again," he answers and I frown.

"Doing what?"

"Forgiving you then waiting for you to find another reason to hate me. It's ridiculous." He states and I raise my eyebrows.

"Seriously? I was the one trying to be nice to you and shit-"

"You're only nice to me when you need something. That's why you're talking to me."

We turn the corner and begin walking up the stairs.

"Bullshit," I won't let him believe that's true, even if it is. I'd still be a dick to him right now if the tutoring thing wasn't bringing my mark up. And he isn't an idiot, so I don't get why I keep lying.

"It's true. That's why you're doing it now." He remarks. "We're supposed to be revising later on, and you don't want me to be angry at you while we do it so you can benefit from it."

I sigh and we stop in front of the open classroom door. If he isn't going to let me be right at least once, I'm going to have a bigger problem with him being around so much.

"I still know where you live and your parents adore me so they'll let me inside. They'll let me go up to your room and while I'm there, you'll feel obligated to help me because I went through all the trouble to drive there and drop my plans." I inform him.

He looks away from me nervously and I think it's the first time in a while he's been wrong. "This doesn't mean-"

"I know. We're not best friends and we're not going to hangout and tell each other our little secrets while we do this." I remind him, receiving the smallest of smiles that he does a terrible job of covering up. Then he blushes. He always blushes. "We're just revising maths. It won't even take that long."

He barely gives me a nod before walking into class and taking a seat in his usual spot.

 

Marcel's POV

I sit on my bed after school, tapping my pencil on my notebook and try reading the question again. The words don't process correctly and I check the clock yet again. It's only been a minute since the last time I looked. I groan, leaning back against the headboard.

I shouldn't have forgiven Louis. It was a bad mistake I told myself I'd stop making, but he'll do that thing where he acts like everything is alright and jokes around, making me feel like nothing ever happened. I can be a good person without letting people use me.

When I hear a knock on the front door and listen to it open, my posture straightens and I'm suddenly uncomfortable in the position I've been in this whole time. I fix myself, still awkward like I'm not going to be comfortable anywhere. I keep adjusting myself, hearing mum's voice and Louis saying something to her before footsteps ascended the staircase. They get louder as he gets closer to my bedroom and I quickly grab my pencil again and stare down at my book, pretending like I've been doing this all along.

"I just need you to fill me in on the last chapter and I'll be good." He says and sits at the foot of my bed, pulling out his books.

I nod, flipping to the right pages in my notes, trying not to fiddle with my fingers too much. His eyes are on me and I don't know how to act while he's with me. I still want to be angry because he's ridiculous most of the damn time, but I don't know why that's so hard for me.

I show him everything, not knowing how long he's going to stay here. I thought he would leave once he gets everything down and looks like he understands, but he asks questions about the assignments and exceeds my expectation of a half an hour.

I hate going back and forth like this. He's using me to help him and get his grades up and he wouldn't be sitting here, making jokes about stuff and acting like we're friends if he was doing well in his lessons. I'm still afraid he'll snap at me in front of everyone again. It's like we're holding an elastic band and keel taking steps away from each other, but Louis is always the one to let go when he promises he won't. It's exhausting. I go from thinking about him too often to hating being anywhere near him to laughing like we've never been angry. It's confusing and frustrating most of the time and I don't know how the hell I tolerate it, but I still find myself getting nervous with him. No matter how mad I am, I'd like the idea of him being nice to me all over again.

"That's a lot. Too much, actually. I think we need a break." He declares, stretching when he stands up. He reaches his arms above his head and closes his eyes, letting out a groan. His shirt comes up his toned, smooth stomach, and I have to stop myself from staring quickly before I don't stop.

"We barely started," I gesture to the work around us and his eyes wrinkle in the corners as he smiles teasingly.

"We'll be back do to the rest of the questions later on, it's good to take a break every now and then." He says, walking across the room to my television. He looks across my selection of video games and picks one out, tossing me a remote.

"You said a break," I remind him. It takes longer than a "break" to play a video game.

"This is a break," he turns around to put the disc in my Xbox and once again, I do my best to peel my eyes away from him and the way his jeans hang low on his hips. His shirt rests loose on his body, but when he leans over it drapes ovet his shoulder blades I can see the way his bones move. The dip in his spine has thick muscles on either side and a black tattoo peaks out on the back of his bicep.

I blush feverishly although he can't see me and look down at the remote in my hands, fiddling with it.

He sits down beside me, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. He doesn't look over and I'm glad, as I can't still feel the heat emitting into my cheeks.

"Why do you still talk to me after I'm such a dick to you?" He asks, his eyes still on the television.

"I - um..." I stammer, not knowing what to say. I'm aware I shouldn't talk to him anymore, let alone have him come over, but I don't know how to say no. "We agreed to tutoring. That doesn't mean I forgive you."

It's not a lie.

He lets out a sigh and I don't want to see the look on his face. "I didn't think of anyone else that would do it." He says yet again and I hope this night doesn't turn into another screaming fight. He'll walk out of here planning to say something to his friends about me then they will end up beating the shit out of me.

"We're not talking about this," I say quietly, focusing on the game.

"Fine. But I'm not angry at you anymore. I'm angry at Sam." He tells me, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees.

"Yeah. Everyone was talking about you yelling at him." I comment, only half-jokingly.

He cracks a smile. "The bastard deserved it." He shrugs, proud of himself. "He thought it was hilarious, but I knew he'd want to kick my arse too if I did anything like that to him."

"What a great friendship," I joke, my mouth curving up into a smile.

"He's decent when he's not bugging me about shit like this." He states, and I look over expecting a solemn, cold expression, but his mood is still light and he's unaffected by my words.

"And how often does he bug you like this?" I ask out of curiosity, having a feeling that this was far from the first time.

"Why do you ask so many questions?" He wonders and I blush again.

"Sorry," I apologize with a small grin still on my face.

"Doesn't matter," he says casually, still concentrating on our game. "I'm coming up with something to get him back."

"Just make up something about him," I suggest.

"Well yeah, but it can't be _anything_." He decides, lifting his hand to brush the hair out of his eyes.

I'm looking back and forth between the game and him, finding it hard to concentrate on just one thing.

"Say he has, like, syphilis or something." I chuckle. It would be funny to see. Everyone knows he gets around with girls whenever he wants and I'm sure that won't get him anywhere with anyone for a while.

Louis laughs and looks over to me. "That's actually good," he agrees and I grin. "Now just tell that to people the next time they ask you if I'm on medication or some shit."

I nod. It will work. Sam won't have to know it was me, because Louis will take the credit. He wants to get back at him.

"Sure," I look back to the game, letting our conversation drop. The only sound in the room is noises from the television and our thumbs pressing buttons. "Why didn't you find someone else to revise with while you were mad at me?"

I only realize that's about the tenth question I've asked tonight after saying it out loud. He probably thought it's annoying, but just looks over at me and laughs.

"Why are you still asking me questions?" He says and I look away from him out of embarrassment.

"Sorry," I apologize again and he lets out another laugh.

" _And stop saying sorry_ ," he repeats.

"Sor-" I stop myself, not realising how naturally the word comes to me. He's making me more nervous and I can feel his eyes on me when he smirks, laughing at my actions.

"You hungry?" He asks, pausing the game. "Because I am. And I'll go downstairs and grab something even if you don't want anything."

I shrug, nothing surprising about how open he is. "I can eat," I say, although it's strange that he's so comfortable here after being inside a few times.

We walk down to the kitchen and he opens the refrigerator like he's living here and I'm the guest.

This is too strange for me after I was so set on staying mad at him. Friends act like this, not people who are mad at each other. I suck at standing my ground, but I also suck at knowing how to stay angry.

"This is all like... Meal stuff. Do you have anything that doesn't require a fork and knife?" He asks with a smile and I nod, pointing to the cupboard across from him.

"Check in there. There's a bunch of stuff." I tell him and he closes the refrigerator, walking over to the cupboard. He takes out a bag of crisps and pours them into two bowls, helping himself to a glass of water afterwards.

"Will you freak out if I eat in your bedroom?" He wonders and I smile and shake my head, even though it will bother me if he ends up getting all his crumbs in my bed.

I hate watching him this way because I enjoy it too much. I stare at his hands moving and fail at looking elsewhere or thinking of something that doesn't involve him. It's so strange. My mind is usually focused on so much at once and when he's next to me, he's all I think about.

"It's fine," I tell him and he nods, leading us back to my bedroom.

I'm still quiet, and I'm glad he doesn't make me talk too much like I thought he would. He's always so loud and I'm not used to this.

When he sits on the chair by my desk to eat, I'm relieved although there's a silence filling the room, the television playing in the background. He doesn't seem to mind, staring at it with his ocean eyes like this is the most normal thing in the world. We're quiet until he takes a drink from his glass of water and he speaks up again.

"I'm going to get mad at you again." He runs his hands down his thighs to rest them on his knees.

"What?" I ask, laughing at the obscurity of the question.

"Yeah," he leans forward again and looks at me with a slight smirk. "I know I will. Something will happen with my friends or someone will say something and I'll end up blaming it on you because I always end up doing that." He takes the conversation lightly, and the look on his face makes it seem like he's supposed to be joking.

"Oh?" I wonder how I should reply.

"Then I'll probably end up saying sorry." He adds. "And I'll feel like an idiot but you'll still be mad at me for being a dick, so this is me apologizing in advance."

I let out a nervous laugh, feeling like the reaction is somehow inappropriate.

"You're apologizing for something you didn't do?"

"Something I _will_ do," he corrects. I'm a little wary like I should already be angry with him for saying this, but there's still that damn smile across his lips like everything is okay, so I tell myself it _is_ okay. "And you're not so terrible to be around, even if I say you are." He tells me. "I'm a douchebag most of the time and everyone knows it, so getting mad is what I do. Just don't believe any shit I'll eventually end up saying."

"O-Okay?" I stammer, and my cheeks heat at his words that feel like the oddest compliment I've received.

"You're nervous a lot," he points out, looking to my hands I didn't notice I've been rubbing together.

"Oh. Yeah. It's just a... Thing."

_What the hell is a thing?_

"Do I intimidate you?" He chuckles, his laughter ringing throughout the room. I shrug and my cheeks turn red again.

_You'd hate me if you knew._

"I'm just a nervous person," I explain and he looks at me, unsure of my answer.

"All the time?"

"Well - yeah."

"Why?" He asks and I try to stop myself from smiling so big.

" _Why do you ask so many questions?_ " I mock, wondering where my anger for him went in the past few minutes.

"Touché," he licks his lips and I still felt my heart racing.

 _Stop_.

"But maybe you should actually talk to people at school. You basically seem to avoid anyone with a heartbeat." He teases and I roll my eyes at the exaggeration.

"I just don't mind being alone," I say, even though I'm starting to hate it more and more.

"School is less shitty if you have friends." He states, and I stop myself from saying he's my friend. That will start another argument he already knows will happen. I don't want us hating each other again so soon.

"I'm not good at starting conversations. I'm fine without having many friends."

He takes another crisp from his bowl, lifting it to his mouth, sighing, "Whatever makes you happy."

 _This makes me happy_.

His mobile begins ringing, interrupting our smiles. He calmly looks at the screen before groaning and leaning back in my chair.

"I'm coming home, you don't need to start yelling." He answers, talking to who I assume is his mother. "Yeah. Okay. Okay. _Okay_. I don't care. Okay. Bye. Fine. _Okay, goodbye_." He hangs up and shoves the phone back in his pocket, looking back at me as he stands up.

"I have to go. Again. My mother's been insane about being home whenever she wants me to be or I'll be grounded longer." He explains, annoyed as he picks up his things.

"No, it's fine," I shrug, though I wish he could stay so we can keep talking like this, even if I still want to be mad at him for what happened. "I had a feeling we wouldn't have got anything else done. This is the longest 'break' in the world."

He rolls his eyes with subtle laughter. "Whatever," he dismisses. "I'll see you at school."

"Bye," I answer. This ridiculously happy feeling coursing through me, keeping my cheeks red and thoughts scattered. He turns his head to look back at me as he closed the door behind himself.

 _Goodnight_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Figuring out the first choice.

Songs for this chapter:

[Over My Head - The Fray](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFRkpvvop3I)

[What If - Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdD6RMICpfg)

 

Marcel's POV

When the bell chimes through the, students languidly begin walking to their classes, talking with their friends. Locker doors are slammed and voices pass by me like wind as I warily make my way to the gymnasium, trying not to run into someone although many people bump into my shoulders and arms, but keep walking by like nothing happened. I pretend not to notice.

We're in class today for PE and I'm just glad I don't have to embarrass myself, tripping over my own two feet the whole time. I look at the booklet for today sitting on my desk, skimming through the lesson for information I might need to know if I'm asked a question. We usually have short lessons - today it's on muscles - and I actually know the answers to most things when Mr. Walton asks me. I don't have to worry about being good at sports and having athletic agility here.

When Louis walks in with Adam, my heart beat increments and my eyes flicker from him, down to my desk, but impulsively turn back to him. He's just looking away from me when I do so, and my entire body heats. This happens too much when Louis is around and I'm partly annoyed with it, but a stupid, giddy feeling is about to overpower that.

"Hey, is that thing true about Louis?" A voice I barely recognise speaks and I turn my head to see Jake sitting beside me. This is the only class we have together and he hasn't said a word to me until now.

My eyes search for Louis again because he only sits a few seats behind me, and he's already looking over, grinning at me and nodding. I don't think Jake notices him, but I glance to the other spots in the room, trying to see if Sam is anywhere within hearing distance. There are only a few people, I turn back to Jake with a small smile on my face and hope this won't turn to shit.

"No, someone made it up," I shrug. "But did you hear about Sam? He's got syphilis." I bite my cheek so I don't smile too largely. I'm not usually the best at lying, but the look on Jake's face is enough of a surprise.

"Seriously?" He laughs, and I'm sure he only believes me because no one has their doubts about Sam sleeping around. "I wonder how lucky he's getting after this."

He asks me who told me, and I say I just overheard it from some people I didn't know, and he's still laughing to himself when he stands up and leaves back to his desk. After, Louis makes his way over to me, his face red from holding in laughter.

"Holy shit, I didn't think you'd actually do it." He comments, sitting on the desk next to mine.

"What? Did you not want me to?" There's more panic in my voice than I expected, because it didn't seem like he was joking yesterday and I could have been wrong, and if Sam knows, I'll dream of going back the shitty high school life from last week.

"No, no. You can still tell people, I'm going to too. I just didn't think you would." He shrugs, a wide grin still on his face.

"Oh, okay," I say, smiling nervously while I look at the people around us. I'm surprised he's talking to me like this in school, even if we're not in front of the entire school. "Are you going to tell Sam it was me? I know he probably hates me more than anyone in this entire school, so he wouldn't be the happiest."

He shakes his head. "I won't say anything. I'll just say it was me. He won't do anything to me." He chuckles and I stand next to him just as Sam comes into the room, content thinking all the gossip going around isn't about him. I expect Louis to move away from me once we see him, but he doesn't. He talks to me until Mr. Walton starts the class, when he goes back to sit with Ian.

I'm embarrassed of all my stuttered words while Louis talks to me casually, not tying our conversation back to school. I'm disappointed when he moves away, and relieved when class is over early because I might get a chance to talk to him again.

Everyone moves of out the room like there's been a fire, only hoping to get to the cafeteria before everyone else so they can sit at their usual tables without having to wait for food.

While I take my place in the queue, I hear Jake talking to Andrew about what I said and listen carefully for my name, but it isn't spoken. Sam is going to find out soon, and Andrew probably isn't the first person Jake told. Things like this never take time to get around in the school, and I don't want to have to be involved with it even though I basically started it. I won't be surprised if all the this year's graduates know by the end of the day.

I have my maths book with me so I can revise for my quiz that's after lunch, tapping my thumb against the hard cover of my book as I look out at the crowd of all the students. Jake and Andrew have changed the subject and no one else is talking about anything interesting, so my mind wander to other things - like the way Louis smiled at me this morning.

"Hey, could you pass me that fork?" Louis' voice doesn't really interrupt my thoughts, as he's right beside me and only getting me to think of him more. He's pointing to the container of white, plastic forks beside me and I don't realise how dumbfounded I must look, but he's still holding out his hand so I quickly reach over and take one of the forks.

"Thanks," he says and moves up with me.

"I'm starving, don't think I'm letting you cut in front of me." I joke and he lets out a laugh.

"Then I'll cut in front of _someone_ _else_." He says quietly, turning around to the girl behind us. The line is moving slow and Louis he smiles down at the girl with so much charm that he hasn't said a word and is already flirting. She's young and can't recognise Louis' fool's gold, but I don't blame her. He could persuade the devil.

"Hey, you're in year ten, right?" He asks and she blushes feverishly, nodding. I doubt Louis has ever noticed her before, making a lucky guess. But even if she wasn't in year ten, I wouldn't be surprised if she just agreed with him so he'd keep talking to her.

I listen in on them, moving up in the queue a bit more.

"Well I'm Louis, it's nice to meet you," He goes on and I'm not surprised she so easily begin talking to him.

"I'm Cleo," she replies and I glance over at them briefly, trying to hold back my smile. She has brown hair and freckles dusting across her cheeks, wearing glasses with pink frames. She doesn't have a stitch of makeup on her face and looks up at Louis, full of innocence. She's still blushing and I pray I don't look that shy when he talks to me.

"So how has your day been?" He asks her, leaning closer to her.

"Em - it's okay, I guess. Long." She stammers, causing him to smile more. "How's yours?"

"It's been lovely," he comments and I stifle my laugh. He knows all the right things to say to every person he talks to, effortlessly making them all adore him. "What classes are you in this semester?"

"Um - Maths, English... Art." She answers, her voice quiet and timid. "Oh, and music."

"Music? What instrument do you play?" He continues and she quiet replies that the piano and he says he used to take lessons when he was younger while we take another few steps forward, putting some of the food on our plates. After this, I'm sure she's going to gush to her friends about Louis Tomlinson _actually_ flirting with her, but part of me is guilty that none of it is real.

In the corner of my eye, I spot a body making it's way in our direction. Amanda is walking towards us, a bowl in her hands. Her gaze glowers at Louis as he flirts with the younger girl next to him and I turn around quickly, but nudge him with my elbow to give him some sort of a warning. Amanda would never let him do something like this, and she's so full of rage now that I think I see steam blowing out from her ears.

"What?" He asks and I nod my head in the direction of Amanda, trying to get him to look without being obvious. "What the hell are you-"

"Amanda," I whisper, shooting him a smile before turning around, waiting for him to get into shit for what he's doing.

When she stands behind me and the conversation comes to a stop, and Cleo doesn't say a word.

"Hey," Louis begins speaking again, but doesn't receive a response. I look around to see Amanda handing a bowl to the staff, barely looking in his direction.

"Excuse me? I found a hair in my soup." She says, probably making up the excuse to remind Louis that she still exists, even if all the flirting is fake.

"Sorry, dear. I'll can take that from you." A woman in a hairnet takes the bowl, embarrassed as if she was the one who dropped the hair in the bowl.

"Amanda..." Louis groans and I look at her while she smiles tightly at Louis, about to snap if he says anything else.

"Come sit down after you get everything," She demands as friendly as she can to mask her anger.

"I'll be right there," he sighs and she begins walking away. When she's far enough away, he groans and I chuckle, turning towards him again. "Fuck off," he laughs and I glance over at Cleo, noticing how she doesn't know what to say or do. "It's your turn."

He puts his hand on my shoulder, turning me back around so I can hand my money to the man standing behind the register, where he is every lunch hour. My entire body reacts to Louis' touch, but too soon he's lifting his hand from my shoulder. The warmth of it disappears and a small chill interweaves with my spine, down to the very base. I'm certain the small gesture leaves behind an imprint, but it's slowly fading after each second that passes/.

Louis is right behind me after I pay and I have the need to wait for him, so I do. I think about walking away to be alone so I can revise, but some part of me hopes he'll ask me to sit with him. I don't mind being alone, but being with Louis when he's in a good mood is better.

I hesitate too long and suddenly Louis is turning around, saying goodbye to the shy Cleo and looking at me awkwardly. He doesn't say anything and I don't want him to feel obligated to sit with me or act like my friend, because we aren't friends. We just talk sometimes. We aren't supposed to be friends, because we shouldn't be friends.

"I'll just - see you in class, yeah?" I say quickly, before I make it too awkward.

"Yeah. Sure," he nods and turns on his heel, walking in the opposite direction.

_That was normal._

I make my way across the room, and once again I'm farthest from where Louis is sitting. I shouldn't sit too close today because I know his friends saw me talking to him, so I don't want to look over at watch them point and laugh at me like I'm blind.

I open the textbook in front of me, looking at some of the questions that we did in class but can't process the words and numbers enough to understand it. Even after choosing to sit away from Louis, I find myself glancing in his direction. I don't want to be, thinking that everyone around me will notice, but it doesn't stop him from diverting my attention away from anything productive.

He acts like my friend. He can joke around with me and say stuff he normally wouldn't like we are friends, but we aren't. If I ever brought it up, he would deny it and end up being pissed at me again, so I need to do something so I stop acting like we're going to start hanging out every day.

It looks like everyone stands up simultaneously when lunch is over, making their way to the bins around the spacious room. I get up slowly, not bothering to rush there so I don't run into someones elbow or be pushed around. We have a few minutes to get to class, and the crowds make me nervous enough as it is. I'm nervous about too much lately, but have to get to class to write that test and see Louis.

I sit down at my desk, and a white booklet of paper rests on top. I wait impatiently for the rest of the class to pile in, bouncing my leg mindlessly because Louis is going to be here soon. That's all I think about, when I usually stress about all the questions that I'm going to have to answer.

Louis places his bag on the ground when he gets here, taking out a pencil and calculator before he notices me looking at him. My eyes flicker away then I realise it's stupid to act like I wasn't looking, so I smile briefly, like an idiot that stares at people for fun.

"Hey," he says, and I turn my body towards him so I can pretend like I'm confident making a conversation, but I can't think of a complete sentence.

"Hey," I reply.

"Do you know if that bio thing is tomorrow?" He asks, twisting his pencil between his fingers.

"Uh - yeah. I think so," I answer, even though the answer is a definite yes.

"Oh. Shit, okay," the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as he speaks and no, of course I don't replay the action over and over in my head. "I'm done football at five, how's after that?"

"What?" I ask, but I'm even thinking of his words.

 _His smile_.

"Are we revising again?"

"Oh," I blurt, and the only time I act like this is in front of him and I need to stop because he'll get annoyed of it sooner or later. "It's not Monday or-"

"Yeah, yeah, but the test is tomorrow." He says. "Are you doing something?"

I'm about to say no, then remember my mother's voice reminding me not to plan anything at the house because of the people that are going to be there. My dad is celebrating something involving his new company and I didn't really pay attention during the conversation, used to people being around for these things.

"My parents are busy," I say, then notice the odd wording doesn't answer his question because my parents being busy doesn't always mean _I'm_ busy. "I mean - they're having this dinner thing tonight and I have to be there. People will be setting everything up." My sentences come out stammering, but I tried to brush it off.

"Oh, well those things don't start until late, hey?" He wonders. "Just drive to my place for an hour or something. I wasnt quite paying attention to the last lesson."

I nod, thankful he found a reason for me to possibly be late to this thing. I never like going to them, and lately I always like being around Louis. With my parents, I'm just introduced to a bunch of people whose names I won't remember, asking me about what I'm planning on doing with my future.

"Yeah. Sure," I reply too quickly and he laughs at me again, raising his eyebrows like I said something he doesn't understand.

"What's going on?" He questions and I frown.

"What? Nothing."

"You're being weird as hell," he says, and the blushing starts all over again.

"I'm fine," I reply repeating the previous conversation over in my head and think of different things I could have said, even if I can't say them anymore.

"Sure," he shrugs, a smug smile on his face. "Just be there around six."

"Okay," I agree quietly, and Mrs. Argon closes the classroom door.

"You can all start. You have until the bell rings and can come by after school if you need more time."

I look away from Louis and flip over the booklet on the desk, but my mind is only focused on one thing.

_Six o'clock._

~*~

I show up at his house a little after six, wanting to be early but don't want him to think I'm excited about school. I'm sure he already thinks I'm the biggest loser, as I always seem to make an idiot of myself around him.

Louis answers the door and the first thing my brain settles on is the things he's wearing and how they hang off his body at the right angles. So I don't stare at him too long, I look around the quiet house as if I expected something to change from the last time I was here.

"My dad is out of town and my mum works late. I'm alone." He explains, closing the door behind me.

"Okay." I answer, clearing my throat because it suddenly sounds too scratchy.

He leads me upstairs to his room, which also looks the same, maybe a little cleaner, as the chair in front of his desk is no longer piled with clothing. The sheets on his bed are pushed to one half and his uniform is hung up on his open closet door, where a few other pieces of clothes lay on the floor.

He takes a seat on his bed and I just sit in the chair, not wanting to invade his space.

"What was the last section on?" He asks, getting right to what I came here for. I'm happy that we don't have to try to talk about something else.

"Uh - metabolism and stuff," I tell him as he opens his book, biting on his lower lip. His eyes skim through the words on the pages and he lets out a sigh, running his fingers through his unruly hair.

"That's a lot," he groans and I begin smiling.

"Missing his class isn't the best plan," I comment, clasping my hands together only to develop more sweat on my palms.

"I wasn't feeling well," he lies, and the smirk on his face gives it away.

"Yeah. Sure," I agree, handing him my notebook.

"As if you've never skipped class before." He laughs, taking my book to look at my obsessively neat writing.

"I haven't," I admit. I've always been too concerned that I'd fall behind or miss the day that we learn something important. "Unless I was _actually_ ill."

He doesn't look very surprised, and I want to take back my answer because it makes me seem like I have no life. "Really?" He wonders. "You should try it some time."

"Well then I'll have end up falling behind like you." I joke and he rolls his eyes.

"Well that time doesn't count," he states, beginning to copy down some of the notes. "You have to skip class at least once in high school."

"Why?"

"It's basically a law. Everyone ends up doing it." He says.

"Maybe I'll think about it," I reply, only because this is keeping him happy. "Keep writing."

~*~

"I can't stand this class," he groans, leaning back onto his pillow after dropping the thick textbook in his lap.

"Then why are you in it?" I ask and he grins.

"I hate physics even more," he tells me. "And I was kind of hoping we'd cut things open like last year."

"Maybe we'll get to cut something up later on." I reply with a laugh.

"We should cut things up more often. It's interesting."

"And a little cruel," I say and he turns over on his stomach, his hand on the right side of his face as he looks at me.

"It's not like they were alive."

"They were fetal pigs. They didn't even get a chance to make it out of the womb." I state with a laugh that probably shouldn't have left my mouth after the sentence.

"Well when you put it like that..." He rolls his eyes, a small smile still on his face. He folds his arms in front of him, dropping his chin on top of them. "Why are you in this class, anyway?"

"Because I think it's necessary for med school." I laugh, and he nods.

"So you're really going to be a doctor or something?"

I shrug, turning from side to side in the chair I sit on. "Yeah, my parents have high hopes." I tell him. "My grandfather was a surgeon so I'll probably end up going to some fancy medical school, but I don't even know if I want to do that for the rest of my life."

I can't really picture myself standing over a body and fixing their organs, or having to tell someone that I killed their friend or family member. I want to write books. I think I might be good at it, but I can't imagine how disappointed my mum and dad will be if I told them I chose to major in English and take creative writing classes instead of do something that will definitely give me a good job. They'd give me speeches on how doing something in the medical field would help me be more successful in life and that so many writers end up poor and forgotten.

"What do you want to do then?" He asks, probably carrying on the conversation so I won't bring him back to biology.

"I don't know," I lie. I don't plan on telling anyone about the writing thing. If it happens, it happens, and I'll die a happy, poor, and possibly forgotten man with a pen and paper. If it doesn't, I'll be a doctor and die unhappy, rich, and remembered by my family and coworkers. "But you're still doing the football thing?"

"Yeah," he says, leaning over to grab a small foam ball from his desk and sits on his bed again. "I always sound cocky when I say this, but I know I'm good. People and coaches are always telling me it so I don't see why I wouldn't. I mean, scouts from professional teams have been watching me play for a while now."

"You said you were applying for a scholarship somewhere, hey?" I wonder. So many people know who Louis is because of how good he is when it comes to football.

Louis nods, but his phone starts ringing and he doesn't get a chance to go further with his answer. He digs it out of his pocket, looking at the name on his screen before sliding his finger across it and holding it to his ear.

"Hey," he answers, throwing the ball into the small hoop on his wall. His eyes flicker over to me before he starts talking again.

"Nothing. Oh yeah, sure. When? Doesn't matter, I'll just meet you there. Okay."

When he says "nothing" I think I know the question he was being asked, but I guess this could be nothing. It's not like we were really doing anything anymore.

Louis hangs up and closes his textbook, and I know this is over.

"I'm going to go see this film with Ian in a bit."

 _Oh_.

"I think I'm good with everything and you have that dinner thing with your parents anyway, right?" He wonders and I sneak a glance at the clock. I haven't even been here for an hour and I don't have to be home for a while, but I nod.

"Yeah, I should get going," I tell him, putting a smile on my face as I stand up. "I'll just - see you at school, I guess?" I pack up my stuff quickly, getting more awkward as I hurry to leave. I'm only holding him up from being somewhere he actually wants to be.

"Sure," he agrees and I sling my bag over my shoulder, pausing before I go. We both step towards the door at the same time, then step back together. We laugh and he ends up letting me go first, and I open the door, saying a quick goodbye.

He closes his bedroom door behind me and I walk down the stairs and to my car, not bothering to look back like I usually would. I shouldn't have to look back.

_We aren't friends. We aren't friends. This is supposed to happen._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep getting closer.

" _A reminder to the graduates to make their way to the gymnasium during lunch hour._ " The intercom speaks monotonously and I'm already bored. We have weekly meetings to discuss graduation and prom and what we want everything to look like and fundraisers we need to do, but I'd rather get a chance to eat before going to the rest of my classes.

When the bell goes, I drop everything off at my locker and slowly make my way to the gymnasium, seeing a few more of my classmates doing the same thing. I don't get why they expect all of us to show up. People skip the meetings whenever they want to because they usually don't care about what we do, as long as they know they're graduating. Since there are barely any students there to make a decision, I usually go to help out.

I walk into the large room and there are a few people place on the bleachers, talking to whoever they sit beside. I look for an empty spot that isn't too close to anyone, but my eyes find Louis sitting alone. He looks up at over at me, nodding his head as if to say hi.

I hated him just a few days ago, but that quickly changed after he started smiling and laughing and I realised how childish I am to hold grudges and that I should act normal, even if we aren't really friends. We aren't ever going to be friends until I hear the words come from his mouth, because anything I say might make him resent me again, especially if I say it too soon. I only occasionally talk to him, restricting myself from acting like we're best friends no matter how much I wouldn't mind that. Still, I begin to expect too much of him, wanting him to hang out and not study or talk to me in school more or ask me to do stuff with him, so I try to avoid thinking about him, but it's hard when I see him every day.

I smile over at him, and he keeps looking at me.

 _Sit with him_.

My hands get clammy and I push them in my pockets, making the decision to go over. I still second guess myself, not wanting to bother him in case he's waiting for friends. The embarrassment of him asking what the hell I'm doing when I sit next to him is enough for me to want to hide for the rest of the day, but he puts his phone in his pocket and my feet are already taking steps towards him so it's too late.

 _Stop thinking_.

I sit down, my muscles tensing as I try to keep a space between us.

"Hey," he greets casually, leaning back onto the next set of bleachers behind us.

I let out the breath I don't realise I'm holding in, making sure I keep my eyes away from him so I don't stare so much.

"Hey," I say, and my voice quiet, but at an embarrassingly high pitch. "Are you waiting for your friends or something?"

He doesn't usually come here. I only saw him the first time then assumed he wouldn't bother showing up until it's important, as he's missed every other meeting before

"They were supposed to come, but then they got into shit for something so I don't think they're showing up anymore." He chuckles, running his fingertips along his smiling lips.

"What did they do?" I ask, surprised it didn't involve me this time.

"I honestly have no idea." He shrugs and looks forward. "They're always doing stuff and getting caught."

"And what? You're just better at hiding it?" I wonder, and I do a shit job at keep my eyes away from him already. His piercing blue eyes stay forward and his fingers entangle together on his stomach and this sight alone is starting to captivate me. His legs are stretched out and altogether, he takes up three sets of bleachers, but one bothers asking him to move, so he stays put. He makes me lose all source of my strength, therefore perfectly content around him. 

"Basically," his grin stretches out like a smile in the sky. A circumzenithal arc. "Remember when someone painted a dick on the blackboard?" He smiles at the memory and snaps me out of the broken stories I could write about him, leaving my head filled with images of our substitute trying to scrub it off with soap and water.

"That was me," he speaks proudly and I shake my head, not at all surprised.

"You didn't get caught?"

"Well I'm damn good at lying too," he sits forward, adjusting the hem of his jacket and the way his fingers move serve as an excellent distraction.

"Why did you even do it in the first place?" I ask, picturing him sneaking in the classroom at the perfect time, just to paint on the board.

"I was bored and hated the substitute." He says contently, shrugging his shoulders like it happens all the time. Now that I think of it, it probably does. "Her voice always had that phlegmy sound - like she needed to cough - and if I so much as moved my goddamn foot she'd glare at me. And her breath always stunk, so I thought it was funny."

I laugh more, the image of her vigorously scrubbing the board with a red face still vivid in my mind.

"That's terrible," I say, but he shakes his head.

"It was hilarious and so worth it." He contradicts, the same familiar smile lingering on his lips. I'm quickly learning about everything he does when he's happy, when I should be teaching myself how to look away so I don't make him uncomfortable. "But anyway, what even happens at these meetings anyway?"

"I dunno, just where we should have the ceremony and prom and fundraising stuff." I say, but he doesn't seem the least bit interested.

"Sounds boring as hell," he chuckles, still running his fingertips along the outline of red sewn to his black uniform. I want to ask him something that doesn't have to do with graduation or school, but I'm a few seconds away from having full confidence when the door screeches open and my attention turns to Amanda walking in with Marcie and Emma.

My eyes look to the three of them and then I look at Louis and try to come up with an excuse to leave so he doesn't have to leave me for them. He shouldn't feel bad for me and sit with me and I don't want to see the girls looking at us and saying things to other people or Amanda teasing Louis so much he doesn't want to be seen with me again. I don't want to have to deal with any hatred again, but Louis doesn't notice them at all and continues talking to me.

"Why can't we sit down like once and decide everything?" He asks, and it takes me a moment too long to register that he's still asking about graduation.

"There's too many students to all decide on one thing. It would probably take ages." I tell him, rushing to get my words out so he isn't waiting so long for an answer. He still hasn't seen Amanda yet and I wonder if they'll come over here, but they make their way over to an empty spot, too caught up in their conversation to notice us.

"This is already taking ages," he groans, tilting his head back. He runs his fingers through his hair and when it drops back down across his forehead, it's fluffier and there's a few locks pointing at different angles.

I don't look over so he keeps talking to me and so I can do a terrible job at not thinking too much about him.

"Did Sam find out about that rumour yet?" I can talk to him like I actually know how to carry on a conversation, which surprises me on many different levels. Getting on this subject might make Louis smile again too, as Louis and I are the only ones aware it's just a joke right now, no matter how many people have heard. We laugh the most because we're the only ones who know it isn't true while everyone around us believes everything being whispered to them.

"I think he's catching on," his smile grows with his words just like I predicted it would. "He doesn't know about the rumour, but everyone keeps looking at him and he hasn't gotten laid since you told Jake." This makes me laugh, as getting laid seems to be a big deal for him. "Even if it's only been a few days, that's a long time for him. I haven't seen his skank-of-the-month around lately."

I can't help but smile along with him. It's cruel and Sam will kill me if he finds out, but it barely makes up for everything he's done to me so I wouldn't take it back, hoping this isn't the last time Louis wants to do something like this.

The Head of Year walks out in front of us, her high heels clicking against the flooring pretentiously. The sound causes everyone's chatter to slow to a halt, and her firm look makes me want to stay perfectly still, fearful that she'll send me out of the room if the fabric I wear makes a noise.

"Thank you for showing up," she begins, folding her hands in her lap. She already sounds condescending and her dark, cold eyes chill me to my core. She wants to be here just as much as we do, which always makes the meeting more dreadful. "We need to start fundraising, and if we're going to find the right venue and have all the food and decoration you want for your graduation, you'll all need to take part." When she talks, it's like she rehearsed everything over and over in front of a mirror and I want to be here less and less. "During Christmas, we usually have the sweets handed out to those who will buy them, so we need people to sell and others to deliver the gifts during that time. We'll be taking ten people at the most and if no one comes to me to sign up, you'll be randomly selected."

There are multiple groans around us which Mrs. Wallace deeply frowns upon.

"But before that, the school is putting on our annual benefit. We have things to be auctioned as usual, but everything needs to be organized and set up by all of you. That means decorations, music, promotions, tickets, and everything else written on a piece of paper on my office door." She says. "Get into partners to make it a little easier on yourselves, but once again if you don't sign up, I'll be choosing people."

The only person I can think of being my partner is Louis, but he has Sam, Ian, Adam, Trent, Amanda and a bunch of other people to chose from. I'll be last on his list and stuck with someone who doesn't care, left to do everything myself.

"I'll be checking up on all of you to see what you've planned and if you need help on anything, but other than that it's all up to you..."

"Hey, you'd be good at the whole planning thing right?" Louis asks, leaning towards me a bit and talks quietly so she doesn't notice. In fact, he's so close that his warm breath cascades over my skin, spilling down my neck and wrapping around my spine so he travels through my nervous system - through all of my body. His eyes shoot through me like bullets but my throat is dry so I just nod. My hopes are setting themselves up for failure again. "Let's be partners then."

 _Yes_.

"Yeah. Sure," I agree, clearing my throat and look to Mrs. Wallace so I keep a straight face.

_Stop being so damn happy. You're not friends. This still involves school._

I ignore my subconscious and pretend to listen again while my mind travels elsewhere. Louis quietly chats to me for the rest of the time and when it's all over, we're about to move out when Amanda stands in front of him. I didn't see her walking over, and her presence is so abrupt that we almost bump into her.

"Hi," she presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, lacing her fingers through his. She's too cheerful. "I let Emma and Marcie be partners for the benefit, so I really hope you haven't asked someone yet."

 _There it goes_.

Louis looks to me, his eyes wider as he panics about having to choose between us, when the choice is already made. He's going to end up with Amanda, and even if he says he's already with me, she'll squeeze her way between us until it looks like I was never in the picture.

"I was kind of with-" he starts, but I shake my head so we don't have to go through this long and embarrassing process. He'd rather be with Amanda anyway and she might say something about us being around each other that pisses off Louis. All his friends hate the idea of us talking, so Amanda could tell them about this and Louis wouldn't hear the end of it. So I shrug and nod to let him know it's okay even if it isn't, and he looks back to Amanda with a smile. "Sure," he agrees, slipping his arm around her waist momentarily.

She gives him another sloppy kiss, saying that she'll see him later, and almost skips off to find her friends again.

"Uh-" he begins, and I don't want him to feel guilty because I should have saw it coming. He doesn't know what to say without seeming like the bad guy, when I told myself not to get my hopes up.

"It's honestly not a big deal," I assure, forcing a laugh from my lips.

Once again, there's thoughts that cloud my head that need to tell him we're either friends or we're not, but that's childish and I already decided we weren't friends. Just friendly. Besides he's here and he isn't angry at me or calling me annoying or doing things to make me feel shitty. After all that's happened, it's a miracle he even talks to me the way he is. I can only be angry if that changes.

"Thanks for understanding it," he doesn't look at me, running his hands under his chin as we walk. "I'm pretty sure agreeing to everything your girlfriend says is written in the nonconsensual form I've apparently signed."

I smile, guilty that talking about Amanda like this lightens my mood. It's not that I don't like her, I just didn't like that she was with Louis. _Maybe_ I don't like her, but I won't tell Louis that.

"I get it." I assure, though I really have no idea why he's with her when it seems like she did things he never liked.

"Thanks." He flashes a small smile at me and the silence thickens between us while we continue to walk. We part ways before things get more awkward.

I end up getting paired with some girl named Rachel. She seems nice, though I'm still disappointed about Louis being with Amanda.

I enjoy the place we're in right now. We're not completely friends, but he's nice to me like we are and isn't an ass like he used to be. The smarter half of me knows something will mess it up because something always happens with him. I choose to ignore the simple facts and still go about anticipating the next time I see him. Even if this doesn't last, I'll enjoy it while I can.

Walking in the halls before my next period, I hear loud voices coming my way. I look up, a little nervous of what I'm about to see, and Louis is running towards me with Ian following him.

"You cocky bastard!"

They both grin widely and I chuckle at them in confusion, before Louis runs behind me, putting his hands on my shoulder as if he was trying to hide.

"Don't even think about it," says Louis, laughing behind me.

"You can't use him to guard you, piece of shit." Ian laughs, trying to catch his breath.

"What the hell are you doing?" I chuckle, feeling Louis move my body when Ian tried to get around to him.

"Don't move." Louis warns, still laughing.

People are staring and laughing along with them just like I am, but I still don't have a clue what they were doing.

"Why?" I ask, and he keeps gripping onto my shoulders.

"Just because. I lose twenty pounds if you move and he tags me."

"Tags you?" I laugh. "You're playing tag?"

"Kind of, but not really." He chuckles, dodging out of Ian's way.

"But if I move and he tags you, you have to pay him?"

Ian is still in front of me as they both move in circles, the people around us staring and smiling. Louis is still touching my shoulders and the small amount of contact makes my entire body warm.

"Basically," he tells me.

Just to go along with the game and continue letting Louis be in a good mood, I jump out of the way.

"What the f-"

"Idiot!" Ian lunges for Louis and lifts his hand, slapping his face.

I look at them both in shock, expecting Louis to lash out at him for what he did. Instead, he bursts out into laughter as Ian moves away from him.

"You know, I pretty much win." Ian looks the least bit sorry and I can't help but smile at their childish behaviour.

"Marcel moved out of the way. It shouldn't count." Louis points out and I raise my hands.

"Don't bring me into this." I tell them and Louis grins at me.

"Too late. I'm not good at losing," he says, the three of us forming a wide triangle. Everyone around us is manoeuvring their way around to make it to their classes. I probably should be doing the same thing, but I find myself wanting to stay here as long as I can.

"So if I got you right now, I'd win?" Ian questions and Louis shrugs, beginning to walk away.

"I guess." He says and wraps his hand around my bicep, gently tugging me back. "Marcel pays half if I lose."

Ian grins and comes towards us. Louis still has his hand on me and I have no idea how I was brought into this.

"So you're saying you're going to lose?" asks Ian and Louis shakes his head with complete confidence.

"I said _if_. It's a very unlikely if."

He keeps pulling me along and I laugh, going with him willingly.

"I don't know. You're pretty slow."

Suddenly Ian is running for us and Louis is pulling me harder, telling me to run. It's hard through the laughter of the stupid game, but I keep running with Louis. I don't know what the point is, but I don't question it.

Then I'm falling and my knees are jolting with pain until the tile flooring is pressing to my stomach.

I groan in pain, a smile somehow still on my face.

"What is going on?" A voice booms and I look to my side to see Louis pulling his arm from under my body and someone getting up from the floor.

I still laugh, feeling my face heat from the fall, but I'm not as embarrassed because Louis is on his side, laughing just as hard.

We both get up and see one of the teachers standing to his feet, looking at us in complete disgust. He brushes the dust from his jacket and stands straighter.

Louis and I look at each other and I bite the insides of my cheeks so I won't smile and get him more angry with us.

"You weren't even looking where you were going!" He exclaims, adjusting his circular glasses on the bridge of his nose.

I cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing at him and us, looking back to see Ian in utter amusement with what happened.

Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh.

I look back to the teacher who's name I don't know and look at Louis, who has his hands behind his back and a slight smirk on his face.

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." He apologises in the kindest way possible and I don't know how he's so good at this.

"Inside. Now." He opens the door to his class, looking down the halls to see if anyone else saw.

Louis and I walk inside, hearing him call for Ian to get inside with us.

We lean on the desks and Louis looks at me, his eyebrows raising as he shrugs.

"We're in shit." He whispers as the man with the thick round glasses closes the door behind him.

"Louis Tomlinson, this isn't the first time I've caught you misbehaving like this." He tries to speak strictly, but his voice is nasally and he looks like a bowling ball.

"I was just in a rush to get to class," Louis lies with ease and I pinch myself, still trying to make my smile disappear.

"And I assume Mr. Anderson was running after you to catch up and 'make it on time?'" He questions, his large eyes focusing on Ian as we stay silent.

I don't think he'd bring us in here and get this angry, but Louis obviously pissed him off before.

"Remember our last discussion?" He looks towards Louis, who nods. "This will be your last warning."

"Sorry, sir." Louis apologizes again and Mr. Bowling Ball glares at him before taking a step back.

"Get to your class. I don't want to see you like this again." He tells us, mainly directing his words to Louis.

We leave the room in a line and when the door is shut behind us, we don't bother to hold in our laughter.

"What the hell did you do to him before?" I ask Louis and he smiles up at me.

"I fucked around in his class a lot." He says. "And did a bunch of other shit. I've had a 'final warning' every time I do something again."

"He doesn't even do anything about it." Ian joins in and we laugh a little more before getting quiet, the only noise being our footsteps against the floor. Louis walks between Ian and I and his head suddenly snaps up, turning to face the both of us. He's grinning and walks backwards, lifting his hand before slapping it against Ian's cheek. He slightly flinches before looking at Louis in disbelief.

"You-"

"We win." Louis states and I chuckle, watching Ian's angry and humorous expression. "That's twenty each."

"Hell no." He denies, but I agree with Louis.

"You said the winner gets twenty, and there's two winners," explains Louis and Ian rolls his eyes.

"You're an arse."

"I'm a winner." He corrects. "We better be getting it by tomorrow."

I don't know why I like the way he says we.

"Yeah, yeah."

We all walk to our class and I feel happy, despite the smallest punishment we got earlier. Louis keeps talking to me throughout the class, even after Mr. Reynolds tells him to stay quiet. He just grins and carries on our conversation, lowering his voice.

Despite everything that has happened in the past few days and how he's acted towards me lately, I try to remember how angry he's gotten with me before and how much shit he's done to me in the past.

I want to forget it all, but every time he looks at me or smiles or tells a joke that gets me laughing, I tell myself we're not friends because he has friends and doesn't need another one.

He doesn't need me, but I need to be okay with that.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> False reality.

Songs for this chapter:  
[Heartbreak Warfare - John Mayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGEdukHtTsc)

Louis' POV

"You fucking idiot." Sam pushes me to the side and I briefly lose my balance, stumbling to regain it.

"What the hell?" I ask with a laugh, looking over at him as I straighten my posture.

"You started that fucking rumour about me because you were too much of a pussy about what I did."

He pushes me again, but now that I see it coming, it's easier to stand upright.

"So you've decided to be a pussy about this?" I wonder. "Come on, you used to be fun."

"Piss off, I didn't tell everyone you had syphilis," he spits, and everyone looks at him like he's insane. I don't bother to hide my smug grin. The bastard deserves all of this and should have known it was me from the beginning.

"No, you told them I was retarded." I remind him.

"Well if you have to get tutoring from that fag, you must be," he sneers, anger riling him further. "It's that, or you're fucking him. I'd believe both."

I use all my strength to get him off of me, my muscles dying to hit him for even thinking about that disgusting shit.

"You're fucking sick," I say, and he's the one amused with this now. All he wants is to piss me off. If I never agreed to revising with Marcel, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have anything on me or things to tell people. We'd be perfectly fine laughing at Marcel.

"Everyone knows you have a soft spot for him now." He informs me. "It'll be easier to tell everyone about it than stay in the closet."

My vision blurs and my hand is throbbing in pain. I hear voices around me and I blink, the pounding in my knuckles increasing as I focus on what I just did.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sam yells and I look at him as his hand clutches his jaw. My hand is still throbbing from the punch and Mrs. Argon is at his side, asking if he's alright.

He nods and she steps away from him, looking at me.

"What in God's name were you thinking?" She shouts at me. "Punching another student? This is intolerable, Louis, even for you."

I don't feel the least bit sorry.

"You didn't even hear what he was saying to me," I sneer, opening and closing my fist.

"I don't care what he said! You're practically adults, you should start acting like it!"

She sounds like my mother and I begin to hate her more every time she breathes. Sam has no fucking right to say that shit in front of all these people, or say anything in the first place.

"Sam, I'm sure you will be fine, but we're not done talking about this." She roughly takes my arm and motions for Sam to follow us.

I can't stand being near him and the idea of everyone thinking Marcel and I are together makes me want to vomit and destroy the idea of him altogether. We walk down the corridor quickly and everyone we pass by stares with a childish curiosity.

Someone walks out of a classroom to catch all the new drama and see Sam whining about his jaw but I roll my eyes. The last person I need to see is Marcel, and he's only going to give Sam more of a reason to talk shit to everyone.

"Are you okay?" Marcel asks as I get closer to him.

My anger for everyone who looks at me gets worse and I despise him for even looking in my direction.

"Fuck off," I say before we pass by and notice his unsettling frown before I no longer bother to wonder who's enjoying the show.

 

Marcel's POV

"Fuck off," he snaps angrily and I'm overcome with a sense of embarrassment and regret for even asking the question. Everyone around us is murmuring about Louis hitting Sam and I try to convince myself he's mad at him for something, not mad at me. He probably found out about the rumour and got angry at Louis like Louis got angry at me. The only difference in our situations is I can keep my fists at my sides without throwing them at other people's faces.

We're all told to get to class and I take one last look at Louis and Sam being pulled away by Mrs. Argon before stepping inside again.

Class goes by too slowly and Louis doesn't return for the rest of the afternoon. I can guess he was let off with another warning and he didn't bother coming to class, or they finally suspended him because of everything else he's done. The second option seemed more likely. I'm glad he finally has a punishment like the other students would if they had as many fights with students. Louis has always convinced people that it could be worse or what he did isn't worth a huge punishment, but that only taught him it's okay to do things over and over because he'll never have any consequences. I was happy being his temporary friend, but I feel like today is going to change that soon and he'll be reminded of all the reasons he hates me.

"Was school alright today?" My mother asks as soon as I'm home. This is her usual attempt to start a conversation with me, but I'm surprised she's home early today.

"Uh - yeah, it was okay." I reply. "I have a lot to do and catch up on though-"

"You'll be ready to go to see Johannah for a while though, right?" She wonders, and I'm already stressing about forgetting. It's her birthday today and my parents told me to make time to be there. I know I no longer have a choice in going, and they'll drag me with them no matter how long I beg to stay home.

"Yeah, but I probably won't stay long - I'm busy," I lie. I feel like I'll be the last one Louis wants to talk to today, and I won't know very many other people at the party at around our age. He'll be forcing himself to be around me with the thought of Sam still making him angry, and end up taking it out on me. He won't hesitate to be rude, making himself feel better, and I don't want to be around to let that happen.

"Are you sure? It's her birthday."

I lost count of the times she's tried to get me out socially and be more extroverted than I have always been. I don't know how to talk to people I barely know without stammering or turning red, and my mind seems to go blank whenever they ask me a question.

"I'll just see how much I get done before," I tell her and she nods kindly, letting me walk upstairs. I close my bedroom door behind me and drop my bag on the floor, lying on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

There's not a single sheet of homework to do, and I think of my excuse to leave the party early. I'll bring my car so my mum and dad won't have to drive me there and leave when I decide to. I'll probably run into Louis and find out if he's even in the mood for talking to me. I hope he is. We were doing okay at the whole friendly-friends-that-aren't-really-friends thing. It's definitely better than fighting all the time.

It's a little after eight when I put the book I grabbed from my large bookshelf away and decide to drive to the hotel. My parents left earlier, and I told them I will meet them there so they don't have to wait. It was just an excuse to waste time, and I'm already out of my school uniform and into something more appropriate.

When I pull up to the building, there is already cars parked outside and people wandering in and out of the doors. I find a place to keep my car that's a little far for my liking, but it doesn't seem like there's anywhere closer so I make sure my doors are locked before making my way inside.

"Name please?" A bald man asks me, and I can almost see my reflection on the top of his head as he looks down at the clipboard in his hand. Wondering if he used wax to make it shiny, I tell him my name while forcing away a grin.

He looks down the sheet and nods, allowing the men behind him to open the doors and let me inside. I'm not surprised at the amount of security or how many people attended in expensive dresses or tuxedos - the majority of my life has been expensive. It used to surprise me when I was young and my parents were just starting their careers, but now both of them are successful and well known, meaning everyone they know and I know are the same way. I'm used to it all.

I make my way through the spacious but crowded room, my eyes scanning the people for a familiar face. I see my dad talking to someone and look around for my mother so I won't have to interrupt him.

She's nowhere to be seen and I feel like everyone is staring at me standing in the middle of the room, a skyscraper among a framework of small buildings.

To draw the attention away from me, I walk towards my dad and hope his conversation isn't too important. When he sees me, he only smiles and I'm relieved.

"Marcel, come meet Brad." He looks strangely happy to see me and puts his hand on my shoulder, leading me over to the man that was previously standing in front of him.

"Brad is the chancellor of one of the best medical university in London," he introduces and his happiness is suddenly justified.

"The best? I'm glad I don't have to try so hard to convince you," Brad jokes and reaches out his hand to shake mine. "Nice to meet you Marcel. Your father tells me you're thinking of going into medicine next year."

"Um - yeah." I tell him, putting a smile on my face and wish I hadn't walked over here.

"Brad is a friend of Troy's," my dad goes on, then they go off on a conversation of my schooling. It seems like they're deciding what I'm doing next year more than I am, only asking me a few questions between all of their statements. My dad has all charm on, probably working himself up to get some sort of scholarship so I can do something I might hate. Being a doctor seemed great at first, but I added up all the years of schooling and internships makes it seem like a waste of time when I could be doing something I know I will enjoy, like writing.

I can't tell anyone that though, because successful is all my family hopes for, especially in their only son.

I look around the throng of people laughing and dancing again and try to spot someone to talk to so I can get out of this. There's too many of them in too many places and too many of them I don't know. My body is tense as I try to contribute to talking to the man in front of me for the sake of my dad, but I see Louis making his way across the room and my body relaxes.

I try to wait for a pause in the conversation, repeating my escaping words in my head so I don't stutter them.

"It was really nice meeting you, but I can't stay long and needed to go see a friend for a while," I tell him and try to avoid the looks of my dad so I don't feel more guilty than I already am.

"That's alright, it was great meeting you. I hope we see each other again." He shakes my hand again and I nod, turning away from the two men.

My eyes desperately search for Louis and I beginning walking in the direction I saw him last when I spot his disheveled head of brown hair. I walk faster to catch up, placing my hand on his shoulder. He jumps and turns around before noticing me.

"Sorry, I just-" I begin, but my words stop the moment I realise I actually don't know what I was going to say.

"I didn't think you were coming," he tells me, straightening himself out before he keeps walking. I take a few longer strides to catch up again.

"Why?" I ask and he sighs, shrugging.

"I saw your parents and you just weren't with them," he says. He doesn't make eye contact with me, and I get the strong sense that he's trying to get away from me.

I keep following him until I find another excuse to leave, maybe wish Johannah happy birthday before I go back home. Coming here wasn't the best idea.

"I wasn't going to come - I mean I was busy so I was just a little late and everything." I explain, trying not to talk so fast and stumble over my words.

"Oh," he says and lets out a sigh.

I look around again and try to find someone else so I could stop bugging him.

_Where are the toilets?_

We stop at a table and I don't realize who is sitting in front of us until I look up. My stomach drops and I should have told him I had to leave earlier.

Amanda is sitting next to Trent and their heads snap up to look at me at once. Across from them is Ian and Emma and I see Sam among them all, not bothering to cover his lavender bruise.

They stare at me and I can notice their eyes going back and forth between Louis and I, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why we're together. I open my mouth to say something, but my mouth goes dry as Sam smirks and looks to Louis.

"Always nice seeing you two together," he comments, clearly holding himself back from saying anything more. I look at his eye again and wonder why the hell he's here if Louis caused the bruise.

Louis glares at him and I notice his jaw clenching.

"Watch it." He warns, but the smile across Sam's lips doesn't fade.

"Fine by me, but I'll know when the hit is coming this time." He says, leaning back in his chair smugly. "So how long have you two been together?"

"Sam..." Amanda warns, aware of his pushing too far. Louis will end up making a scene in front of everyone, even if it's his mothers birthday.

"What? Lighten up. I'm just having a little fun." He says and Louis' eyes are still dark with anger.

I can't move even though I want to run from the room and away from everyone around me before this got too bad.

"You really need to learn when to shut the fuck up. I've taken enough of your bullshit today."

Sam laughs again and shrugs, egotistical and complacent.

"You forget I'm the only one who doesn't listen to the shit you say," he states and Louis' muscles are still tense, but ready to lunge at the person sitting in front of him. "But I'm sure Marcel gets down on his knees every time you ask."

The short sentence is all it takes for Louis to jump out of his stiff position and grab Sam by the collar, picking him up form his chair with ease.

Everyone around us draws in sharp breaths and gather around before they decide to pull the two apart. They yell at each other and people stare with wide eyes, too caught up in Louis and Sam's actions to do something about it. Some people back away and look terrified of what was happening, and I still can't move. Louis pushes Sam into the table they were sitting at and everyone still sitting are now standing, some of them being splashed with drinks.

Trent is first to get ahold of them, grabbing Sam's shoulders while reminding him of all the people in the room that can see what he's doing. Amanda is yelling at Louis as if it will make a difference, and someone close by takes Louis and pulls him away. He has short dark hair and blue eyes, reminding me of both Louis and his dad.

"Fuck you. You're such a piece of shit." Louis says to Sam, who is breathing heavily but somehow looks happy with the reaction he received.

"Fuck you too," he laughs, shaking his head. "Unless your boyfriend has already done it."

Just when I think everything is over, Louis is out of the man's grip and has thrown his fist into Sam's stomach. He buckles over in pain and more people gasp. I want to do something, but I'm still stuck in my position. Louis was going to blame this all on me. Every bit of it would be turned on me and he'll hate me again.

Louis and Sam are still hitting each other and Trent the man I have never seen before are still trying to pry them apart, but fail miserably.

_Help them._

I step in, no matter how much I know I'm going to regret it. The added strength gets Louis off Sam and they're separated from each other again. Louis' eyes are still glowering at Sam and he wipes the blood from his already swelling lip. He looks over at the man next to me and pulls his arm away from his grip.

"What the hell do you think you're doing-" The man begins and Louis shakes his head, interrupting him.

"Why the hell do you give a shit?"

I'm not the least bit surprised with his words, and neither is the guy in front of him.

"Are you okay?" I ask and already curse at myself for trying to step in and make the situation better.

Louis looks at me in disgust and takes a step back. My chest begins to ache.

"Why the fuck are you still here?" He yells at me.

"I thought-"

_Don't think. Stop thinking._

I can feel my heart pounding and everyone is looking at me. I know some of them are laughing at me and I shouldn't have came up to Louis in the first place tonight.

"Well fuck off, it's pretty damn obvious no one wants you here."

My eyes are burning and I blink rapidly.

_Stop fucking up._

I turn away from him quickly and can't bear to be anywhere near anyone in this room.

"Fucking fag." Louis voice spits venomously as I'm walking away, and I bite the inside of my cheek until the flesh throbs and I taste blood.

No more chances. I can't do this to myself anymore. I keep lying and saying that he'll be different then he goes ahead and does shit like this. He's always going to care about everyone else before he cares about me and I can't take it anymore. He's just feeding me bullshit until he can't stand looking at me.

My thoughts are filled with pretend versions of him where he smiles and laughs when we're together and he won't let anyone make me feel like shit anymore. I think of this version so much it's clouded the real him and becomes all I can see and hope for. It's why I've forgiven him over and over and why I might do it again.

I'm scared to be around him anymore. I can't think properly and I get nervous and he says things that make what he does seem okay. It's not okay. It's never okay and I keep giving in to all his lies.

It's not okay then I'm not okay, and I need to be okay.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Louis is wrong.

Songs for this chapter:

[Cold As You - Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-QlwzkFrnU)

[Things I Don't Understand - Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2o5W--LhhA)

Louis' POV

"I cannot believe you made a scene like that in front of everyone," my mother scolds and I fold my arms across my chest, rolling my eyes as I pretend to listen to the fucking stupid conversation.

"There were so many important people there, Louis." My father continues for her and I groan another "I'm sorry." I've already said the words ten times, more pissed off the more I repeat myself. Barely anyone noticed what Sam and I were doing anyway. If he wasn't such a prick, none of this shit would have happened. I'll probably be grounded or something, but they'll leave town soon enough and I'll be free to do whatever the fuck I want again.

"Saying sorry isn't enough." My mother goes on and I clench my jaw.

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do?" I ask and she huffs impatiently.

"I don't know what to tell you anymore!" She exclaims. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened!" Her voice is raising, but I don't comment on it. It will only give them something else to be angry with. "We've gotten calls from school about your behaviour and you've been partying - everything is getting out of control."

They have no idea about the amount of shit I actually do when they're not around.

"I talked to one of your teachers before and they said you were already failing her class! And that was in the beginning of the school year, Louis." She says and my eyes flicker to my dad, who sits to the side, waiting for his turn to cuss me out. This gives him more reasons to be disappointed.

"Well why do you think she forced me into getting the tutoring?" I fire back, even though I had the choice of listening to her. I want to go back and say no way in hell I'd spend time with Marcel, and everything would be back the way it was - the way I liked it.

I need to find someone else to tutor me. Marcel is annoying as fuck and only makes things between my friends worse. Because of him, Sam started saying shit and as usual, he doesn't stop. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him too.

"My grades are better now." I point out. "It's not like they're going to stop me from getting into school or anything."

"Your behavior might," my dad steps in, standing up straight. "People are going to be around for that football scholarship you want and they won't be impressed if they find out about all of this. Going to school is a big deal, Louis. It's not only about your grades."

I want to lose my shit the second he brings this up. Everything we fight about leads back to the football scholarship he so badly wants for me. I know it will work out for me no matter what I do. He'll find a way for me to get into that school and will pay any amount of money so he can brag about something in front of the people he knows.

"Fine. I'll get better. I'll do better in school. I practice football harder. I'll do shit, but I don't want to sit here talking about it anymore." I tell them. I'll say anything to get them off my back.

"You've said this before." They point out. "We're going to have to start disciplining you more."

We've had this conversation too many times before for me to believe them. They've said things about staying home more and taking time off work, or grounding me more and making me talk with my friends less. Each time, they get an important call from work for their important jobs, telling them about an important opportunity and they need to leave town for a few days. Then I spend time with my friends.

"Okay." I sigh. I don't care about whatever punishment they have for me. It will last twenty four hours before they get too busy and forget. "Ground me. Just do whatever."

"A month." My dad says and my eyes widen and I open my mouth to object before I realise that will only add more time onto the month they will forget about. "And keep your grades up. If we get another call from someone at the school or you act out again, I don't know what we're going to do with you."

 _Do with me?_ They act like I'm some piece of shit they bought and don't want anymore.

I still don't say anything.

"Is that fine?" He asks, glancing down at his watch. He already has somewhere to fucking be. He doesn't even give a shit about what he's saying, he wants out like I do. We've been talking about this too damn long.

"Fine." I agree I stand up and begin to walk out of the room.

"Don't forget about the benefit tonight." My mum calls and I pretend I don't hear her as I walk away from them.

 

Marcel's POV

"Can you help me put this up?" Rachel asks and I look over to see her struggling with a large banner.

"Oh - yeah. Sorry." I apologise and take the corner from her, standing on the chair to pin it up.

I've been here for an hour setting up the decorations with Rachel, exchanging awkward conversation with her between the job, whenever she tries to talk to me. For her sake, I want to know how to carry on whatever we are talking about. There are other students and random people working around us, and it seems like more and more people walk into the building every five minutes.

Every year, the school sells two hundred over-priced tickets to people who dress up in their gowns and tuxes to come to this thing. They'd have a theme and hire entertainment for the night so everyone can play games and eat and somehow have fun by spending all their money on the school.

This year, we're having a carnival-circus theme, so we've got all the acrobats and magicians and games to play for everyone coming. The decorations are already paid for, the students just have to set them up and work the doors and games. Rachel and I are on decoration duty like Louis and I were supposed to be.

I'm still angry and embarrassed with what happened yesterday night, and I keep wishing I didn't do things. I no longer want to agree to forgiving him or helping him with school or go to his mother's birthday or even talk to him. It's a waste of time. I know that he'll eventually get mad at me for something again, but I never thought it would be like this. There were so many people watching as he lunged at Sam and yelled at him and yelled me. I felt like everyone was staring as I left.

"We're done soon, hey?" Rachel asks and I remember the list of things we gave to do while we are here and nod.

Rachel is nice. She doesn't hate my guts like the last few people I talked to do. She laughs when I try to joke about something and I thought she would be a good friend, if I could even think about wanting friends. I half expect her to start getting sick of me twenty minutes into this, but she still smiles and doesn't make me feel like shit for not talking so much. I like her.

"Yeah, we just have to set up the tables for everyone working with the games then we'll be good." I say as I finish straightening the large banner.

She waits for me as I step off the chair and put away the last few things we were dealing with.

Walking in silence, we make our way to the area with games set up and my eyes immediately settle on Amanda and Louis in costumes, laughing about something with each other. I don't look at them long enough to get a good image of what they were doing, but stomach twists anxiously. I don't know if I want to leave the building or wish we were still talking.

"We're supposed to be setting some things up... Do you know where the equipment is?" Rachel asks Mrs. Wallace and she nods, pointing to an open room across from us.

"Most of the booths are set up, but there's a few more things for the students. Amanda and Louis are supposed to be doing the games, so you can talk to them about where they want things." She tells us and Rachel confirms it for us before she hurries away to make sure someone isn't wrecking the night.

"I saw them just around the corner..." Rachel says to me and I think of anything I can do so I won't have to be the one talking around Louis. All the things he's said to me before are running through my mind.

"Why don't you talk to them and I'll go grab the stuff?" I suggest just so I won't have to be near him, and she nods in agreement.

"Sure. You don't need help?" She asks and I shake my head.

"I'll be fine," I assure and she smiles before we walk in the opposite directions.

As I walk in the room, I see that there are things scattered everywhere. There's boxes with labels on them and I take my time to find what I need. Stalling means less time around Louis hating me. I look around more until I find things that look like they're supposed to be for the games. There's a pile bigger than I expect to see, and I grab one box in hope that I can take more trips alone than being around everyone.

I walk out to find Rachel, and see her talking to Louis and Amanda. Amanda is in a too-short circus ringmaster costume with these fishnet tights that _should_ be covering skin if this is a school event. There's a red tuxedo-like jacket over her shoulders and she wears a black bow tie around her neck and high heels. There's a top hat over her dark hair and she smiles at Louis in a flirty way that bugs me.

I almost smile when I see Louis in these striped, multi-coloured clown pants with the rest of his colourful costume over his arm. I'm surprised he's wearing something like this, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was doing it because his friends were around wearing the same thing.

"Marcel!" I hear Rachel's voice call and I look over to her waving at me. My eyes flicker to Louis again and I walk over with the box in my arms.

"Hey..." I say, chewing on my bottom lip.

"They said they could help out setting up the rest of the stuff so it'll be quicker." She tells me and I nod, placing the box on the floor. I get the idea that they'll grab their own things so we wouldn't have to be near each other for the next little bit.

"Great."

"Why don't you two bring all the stuff down?" Amanda suggests and I immediately want to shake my head no. I'm sure Louis is thinking the same thing. "You know, do all the muscle stuff."

Louis laughs, but it comes out as more of a scoff.

"If you want that, I might be the one doing all the work." He says, looking to me with a hard expression. I don't know what to say to that, and neither does anyone else.

"I'll start setting up the stuff we already have out with Rachel." Amanda says, choosing not to comment on Louis' previous statement. She probably only wanted Rachel away from Louis in fear that she'd flirt with him or something. She always seemed clingy.

"Be right back." Louis says and begins to walk away from the group, leaving me to follow behind him. I sigh and don't try to catch up. By the time I make it to the room, he's already grabbing something and is on his way out.

It continues on like this between trips back and forth until I walk inside and see Louis trying to lift a large sheet of painted plywood with several perfect circles cut out of it.

I don't realise how long I'm standing there staring until he says something.

"Well are you going to help?" He snaps and I jump, but quickly go over before he can get any more mad. This is already bad enough, I don't want to make it worse.

"Sorry." I mumble and he rolls his eyes as I take the opposite end of the wood in my hands.

He begins to lift when I barely have my hands around it and I already feel it beginning to slip.

"Wait-" I tell him, but my side is already falling to the floor and I hear him curse loudly as his side begins to tilt and slide from his hands.

I quickly try grabbing the board, but I feel a sharp pain slice across my palm and I flinch back, hearing the board fall to the ground.

"What the fuck?" Louis yells and I look down at my hand to see a cut across the middle. A few seconds later, the pain kicks in and I feel it sting an burn as dots of blood appear at the surface of my skin.

"Why the hell did you let go?" He continues, lifting his foot and limps over to a chair, sitting down. His eyebrows are furrowed together and I look down at my hand again, squeezing it into a fist as the pain burns more.

"I'm - I'm sorry. It slipped. You lifted it too early and-"

"Well you didn't have to fucking let it go." He says sharply and I stop feeling apologetic.

"If you waited for me to grab it, then it wouldn't have slipped. It's not my fault." I say as he stretches his leg out. He doesn't say anything and stands again, heading towards the door, trying not to limp as much as before. I'm close to feeling sorry for hurting him, but I'm more angry than anything.

"Well where the hell are you going?" I ask and he turns back around, all his muscles tense.

"Get the shit yourself. I'm leaving." He tells me.

I sigh, "I can't carry the whole thing by myself. You can't just leave." He groans, running his fingers through his hair in aggravation.

"Apparently I'm not supposed to hit people as much as I do or it'll fuck things up for me or something." He informs me. "You're making it kind of hard."

I cringe at the words and clench my fists together harder.

"If you weren't so damn rude, you wouldn't be so pissed off right now." I tell him, regretting my words as soon as they tumble out of my mouth.

He stiffens and takes a step towards me.

"I'm not rude, I just can't stand being around you." He says and I thought I would be hurt by his words until I think of us acting like things were perfectly fine. He could joke with me whenever we were around each other and that sure as hell doesn't sound like not being able to stand me.

"So what about before what happened with Sam?" I ask him. "Could you not stand being around me when we talked at school or when we were around Ian? You could laugh and joke about stuff then. What the hell happened?"

"I told you we weren't going to be friends." He reminds me again and I want to yell at him.

"Of course we were friends!" I call out and throw my hands up in frustration. "Maybe not in front of Sam, but we were friends. No matter how many times you say you can't stand me, you seem to forget all the time you were fine with having me around."

"We were never friends!" He yells at me. "That was bullshit. I just needed you to help me raise my mark."

"Well your mark is perfectly fine now. Why do you need my help?" I wonder and he hesitates to come up with another lie.

"Because they're just going to drop again. Just because I was nice to you doesn't mean we were ever friends." He informs me and I don't know how much longer he is going to go on with this. It's clear he doesn't want to admit anything but I don't know why it's so damn hard.

"So what the hell are friends to you?" I ask, my voice getting louder. "A person you spread rumours about to get back at for something they said about you? Someone you want to make feel like shit?"

He's quiet again.

"I guess we really can be friends then." I let out a demeaning laugh and he begins to speak through gritted teeth.

"I don't know what kind of ideas you're getting in your head, but we're not going to be friends. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you."

His words are cutting through me, but I refuse to show him any sort of weakness.

"I'm obviously not the only one with issues." I fire back. "You care too much about what people think of you to want to be around me. You're scared of what they're going to say to you because they don't like me. If they didn't give a shit about me, you'd be fine hanging around me!"

"Well that's not how things are, so I'm not fine with it."

"You're fine with it when no one is looking." I fume. I feel my nails digging into my palm and forget about the small cut. "You don't even know why you find me so annoying, so I obviously can't be that fucked up."

"You're-" silence cuts him off and like I expect, he can't find anything to back himself up.

"See?" I laugh again and shake my head. "Leave. I don't care. You obviously have some shit to figure out."

His gaze glowers at me momentarily, but he doesn't look back when he walks out of the room.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis might mean it this time.

Songs for this chapter:

[Heartbreak Warfare - John Mayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGEdukHtTsc)

Marcel's POV

The people on the stage make their way back into their seats in the auditorium as the head teacher makes his way to the centre of everyone's attention. I'm sure this was the second time I've been in this room and that it's only ever used once a year, during this time.

We have a literacy day that happens once a year, every year. The students basically get a whole day to mess around or participate in the activities the school planned to be "educational _and_ fun."

Most of us would rather sit in class the whole day.

I look down at my phone while I wait for someone to talk about the next activity. We already went through a competition of naming as many flags of the world you can in thirty seconds and acting out your choice of scene in one of Shakespeare's plays.

Sitting and watching most of the things we did wasn't too bad, sometimes funny when the people were. I never volunteered to do anything, and probably would have skipped today if participation was mandatory.

"Next on the agenda..." Mr. Reeves begins, clearing his throat as he stands a little straighter, looking out at the intimidating crowd of students. He holds out a sheet of paper with the ideas of the rest of the staff and reads it off like an informational manual. "Story time. Three groups of five will volunteer to create a story based around any subject they choose. They will have fifteen minutes to create it before the present, then the audience will choose the winner."

I heard a few whispers from the people around me.

"I'll start with choosing the first volunteers..." He looks up from his sheet of paper and into the crowd. People are still whispering and he points to someone in the crowd of students.

I turn around to see who it is, and Louis is already standing with the four other people sitting around him.

I immediately look to the closed door and think of leaving.

I was waiting for them to do something after what I said to Louis the other day. It never usually took them long, but he usually needed to find the opportunity where he could do it and not get into shit for it.

I didn't know how the hell he's going to do something in fifteen minutes to get back at me, but knowing him, he's creative enough to come up with something. I doubt he told anyone what I said, but his friends never hesitate to help him with things he wants.

I could tell he was embarrassed with what I said, but every word of it was true. He never wanted to admit anything because he was afraid other people were going to find out he didn't hate me when we were together. I let the words eat their way at my mind too much and I had to tell him, some part of me thinking it would make him less childish when it came to who he wanted as friends. I didn't want him to think I was okay with having him treat me like shit then act like nothing ever happened.

Mr. Reeves picks two more groups who seem overly-eager to get started and my eyes dart to the door. I'm already planning to leave early without getting caught so the school won't contact my parents.

I slowly slip from my seat and attempt to discreetly make my way to the closest door.

As soon as I think I'd make it, someone stands up from a chair and blocks my way.

"You're not supposed to leave the building."

"I just-"

 _Think_.

"I need to use the toilet." I feel a bit more comfortable with my excuse, but the teacher still looks at me in disapproval.

"The lavatories are at the top of the stairs."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you." I reply. I should have known it wouldn't be so easy to get out. If it was, I'm sure half the people in this room would be gone.

I quietly make my way back to my seat, only hoping that this won't be as bad as I can imagine. It might be worse, but I try not to expect it so I can at least sit here for a while and soak up the embarrassment-free environment.

When I look up on the stage, the three teams are grouped together and my eyes easily find Louis and his friends.

They're huddled together and laugh once and a while. They don't look at me, but point at each other when Sam reads something off a piece of paper and I look at the clock on my phone, waiting for this to be over so they can get it done.

I'm used to this. I can put up with it a few more times.

"Alright, time is up." Mr. Reeves announces. "Will anyone volunteer to go first?"

Louis' group doesn't say anything, but another group is already making their way forward.

I get more nervous sitting through their performance. It gives me more time to think of what they were going to say. The people were acting out something about playing dodgeball and trying too hard to be funny. The odd group of people would laugh, but I'm too focused on everything that will go wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, two groups had run through their skits and Louis is standing up, whispering something to Sam before his eyes flicker over to mine. My heart is racing and I'm already telling myself not to do anything after this. I won't say anything or act any different because I still have to sit in the same room with them for another two hours. I can't go anywhere alone.

"Once upon a time..." Louis begins, setting his eyes on me once again. "There was a large kingdom of ducks."

People laugh, but I know where this will be going.

"The ruler of this kingdom was incredibly well known, and every citizen adored him."

Amanda kneels beside him and dramatically hugs his legs, leaving everyone laughing again.

"All the king's men stood by the king and helped him rule the kingdom, along with his super hot queen." He speaks confidently, and Trent, Sam, and Adam stand by his side as Amanda holds his hand. "But-"

His eyes find mine and my stomach twists uncomfortably.

"There was one duck in the kingdom that is important in this story - the ugly duck."

The crowd is still laughing and I feel sick.

"This ugly duck was hated by just about everyone, but that doesn't mean he couldn't love everyone else."

Sam places a plastic pair of glasses over his eyes and sticks his hands under his armpits, moving them up and down as he waddles like a duck.

"Well not _everyone_ , as the lovely girl ducks didn't have a chance."

Amanda pretends to cry as Sam looks at her with an expression of disgust.

 _Everyone knows it's me_.

I can feel their eyes on the back of my head and I avoid looking back to see just how many of them their is.

"But the king duck obviously couldn't be bothered. He had the super hot queen." Louis continues and Amanda kisses his cheek with a smile.

"One fine day, the ugly duck was going for a walk around the kingdom when he sees the king and his guard. He starts to think of how amazing he is and decides to confess his love without another thought."

Sam stops in front of Louis and Trent and Adam take a step forward, in front of Louis.

"King Louis, how I love and admire you!" Sam calls out and I feel as though everyone is looking at me and laughing instead of the people on stage. "I will stay by your side until you love me back."

Louis gets Trent and Adam to step aside, rolling his eyes at Sam, who is now down on his knees.

"Well don't expect me to say yes after your corpse has rotted." Louis tells him.

"Shall we dispose of our new waste before he starts to beg for you?" Trent wonders, standing tall and proud with his words.

I can picture Louis before this, telling everyone he knows how I obsessively told him I'm in love with him. He would have said I was the reason we didn't talk because I forced myself on him and he pushed me away. He wants everyone to know how much I'm unwanted and he'll do anything so they don't know about what I said to him a few days ago.

"Please do," Louis goes on and I bite the insides of my cheeks so the lump in my throat disappears. "I don't have anymore time to bother with such unimportant subjects."

Louis brushes Sam away and I look off to the side of the stage, where our head teacher is looking concerned as he clues in on the story that doesn't seem fictional. He doesn't stop it like I hope he would, and although everyone is still laughing at me, he seems like he's deciding if he needs to step in.

Everyone is stepping off stage now and I forget how they ended the story. I know they said happily ever after, but I'm trying to hide my face and not look around so much. The tears on the brink of my waterline are full of anger and I don't feel an ounce of sadness.

I hate Louis. I hate everything that he's ever done and I hate how stupid Iw as forgiving him so many times, caught up in the idea of this person that will never exist.

The group is now offstage, full of laughter in their seats. The don't try to hide their stares at me and Amanda even points over and Louis looks in my direction, smirking.

I don't understand why I'm walking over to them when I do, but all my muscles are tight and I picture throwing my fists into Louis' jaw to relieve some of the pressure that's building up everywhere in my body.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" I ask him.

He looks to Sam and scoffs as he does a terrible job at hiding his smile.

"It's literacy day. You're supposed to be joining the fun." He informs me.

"Cut the bullshit, I know what you said to them."

He sits forward, unaffected by my words.

"Did you not want them knowing?" He laughs condescendingly and my fingernails dig into my palms.

"I don't know what disgusting obsession you have with me, but I didn't say I loved you." I sneer. I hear people around us talking and I know we're going to be pulled away from everyone to talk about this later on.

"Just because everyone knows, doesn't mean you have to make a big deal out of it. It's just love." He tries to look as innocent as possible, but everyone can see through his small act.

"You know that's not true."

"Oh really? What is then?" He insists and I hear people behind me.

"What's going on here?"

"You're lying to everyone before I can so they don't know about you actually wanted to be friends with me. You were okay with having me around, and a little more than that, right?" I say, already coming up with the revengeful lies. I don't care about the teachers telling us to stop. There's some sort of adrenaline that makes me keep going until he's has angry as I am.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I smirk and him and don't think about my words before I say them. The tumble out of my mouth involuntarily and I don't care who hears.

"So you didn't tell them about trying to kiss me until I pushed you away?" I wonder. I look around at their faces, all in shock by my words. "Or how you were around me so much because you fancied me and didn't want to say anything? You'd only get angry at me when your friends found out and when I told you I didn't like you."

"Shut the fuck up." HIs teeth are gritted together and I feel accomplished.

There's a hand on my shoulder and I'm suddenly being pulled backwards.

"What do you think you're doing? How many times have I had to speak to you two about your behavior?" Mr. Reeves shoots his infamous glare at Louis and I, telling him to get up.

We silently follow him out of the room, into the empty corridor. It was only then that I started regretting my words.

"This is ridiculous!" He shouts. "You two have been constantly fighting for too long and I've had enough of it!"

"He was the one who start yelling at me. If he stayed in his goddamn seat, this wouldn't be a problem." Louis asserts. I stay quiet, not sure what to say anymore.

I want to tell Louis I hate him, but I stop myself quickly.

"You know what you were doing on that stage, Louis. I've talked to your parents about this before, and I will be doing it again."

Louis finally shuts up, giving him a chance to look at me and speak.

"And Marcel," he begins, his voice in a slightly smoother tone after the fighting had gone down. "The only time you've had to talk to me about these things are when it involves Louis. Despite your hard work at this school, I need to talk to your parents as well."

He looks back and forth between us in complete disapproval.

"This is getting out of hand. You two need to become more mature about this. There's going to be people throughout your life that you hate being around, but you can't start screaming at each other and fighting whenever they do something unsettling. It's called growing up."

I suddenly hate him too.

"I don't see the point of you two staying here, so I'd like it if you left. There will be a phone call to your parents to discuss this further, but I really hope you two will figure out some sort of compromise."

My eyes flicker to Louis, who's muscles are tense and stare is hardened.

Louis and I are walking in the same direction when he tells us to go, and although Louis tries to walk faster ahead of me, I'm taller and even my normal pace seems hard of him to catch up to.

Despite what just happened, I almost laugh at his actions.

"I can't do shit like that in school anymore." He tells me, eyes straight ahead. "And don't go thinking it's for your sake, because it's not."

"I know that." I murmur, looking anywhere but at him.

"I'm just going to say that you better not do shit either, or we'll both get suspended or something and our parents won't be too damn happy about it."

"I'm obviously not going to do anything." I remark, wishing I had the confidence to get back at him without worrying about the consequences.

"And don't tell your parents shit about me. I don't know if you've got some weird open relationship with them, but I really don't need them to hate me if there's one of those bullshit family dinners again." He confesses. Whenever he speaks it hurts, but I try to ignore it.

"They don't know about any of the shit you do so your great reputation in front of them will be fine." I assure, wishing the exit from the school was closer. It's taking everything I have to not start yelling at him again. The thoughts of what I could have told him build up the more we walk and it drives me insane, but I stay quiet.

"I'm kind of sorry too." He says and I finally look at him, shocked by his words. "I've done a lot of shitty things to you. I don't know if I feel bad because I got into shit for it, but for now I'm sorry."

_What does that even mean?_

"Oh," is what I reply with, and he doesn't say anything after that.

By the time we get out of the school, we start walking in opposite directions and I turn around to look at him.

It doesn't take me long to convince myself he said it so I wouldn't do anything to him. He was never nice to me without a reason, he always needed something out of it. I don't trust myself or him for another chance.

All the things he said to me is ringing in my ears and I don't know how a few words were supposed to fix it all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops & hi

Songs for this chapter:

[Reminder - Mumford and Sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1OAcRVw7js)

[Clarity (acoustic) - Foxes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niBXg0MWhVo)

 

Louis' POV

I sit down at the table and everyone stares at me.

"What?" I snap, and they all look away.

I see Marcie leaning over and whispering something to Emma. She tries to hide her smile after her eyes flicker back to me.

I glare at her and almost lose my shit.

"Don't be so fucking immature. If you feel the need to talk shit about me, say it in front of everyone." I sneer and they look at me in shock.

_Dumb bitches._

"Hey now..." Ian defends and I roll my eyes at his petty attempt to protect his little girlfriend.

"Fuck off, I know you've all been talking shit since yesterday." I say, and they don't respond like I expect them to. "I can't believe you'd actually believe what he said. He was obviously trying to embarrass me because of what we did. You're fucking stupid if you believed him."

"He seemed pretty convincing." Trent laughs and I glare at him.

"And you seem pretty easy to convince, so your opinion is shit." I fire back.

I always get pissed at them for shit like this, but they really are fucking stupid to believe him. He's never tried to get back at me for something, but he's finally fed up with it all and I don't blame him. Everyone acts like a douchebag towards him and we really don't have any other reason than entertainment. Yeah, I'm starting to feel bad about it, but I'll keep thinking he deserves it if he ends up saying shit like that again. We really fucked him up in some way and it's taking me too damn long to figure that out, but there's something fucked up in me that makes me not feel so bad. The twinge of guilt never lasts as long as it should, but I never find myself caring about that either.

"Just because you're pissed about what he said, doesn't mean you have to be a baby about it to everyone." Trent tells me and my jaw clenches as I picture hitting him in the jaw.

"Leave him alone," Amanda opposes, taking my side like she always does. She knows I'd just as easily get mad at her if she said something, and she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our insignificant relationship.

"Well he doesn't have to be so pissy all the time." Sam says with a small smile across his lips.

"And you don't all have to be douchebags." I respond, feeling Amanda touch my shoulder as she tries to calm me down.

"I was going to welcome you back after yesterday, but I guess your boyfriend changed you pretty quickly, didn't he?"

Everyone sitting here is so shitty.

I barely process the words in my head before I blurt, "You're all shitty," not regretting anything after I realize what I said.

"Well you don't have to be here with us. I'm sure Marcel will take you back though."

He's much fucking better than these arseholes. Just because we messed around with him doesn't make him a fucking dick like all the people around me. They don't give a shit about what they say and never give a damn about what happens because of it.

"I don't even get why I'm fucking here half the time." I say, but still don't find myself moving. "And stop involving me in shit with him. If I get caught doing something else, my chance with that scholarship will be gone and I probably won't be able to leave my damn house. I don't give a shit about him so you can say and do whatever the fuck you want to him, but leave me out of it. I'm done."

None of them look surprised with my words.

"Looks like you've getting a soft spot for him?" Sam breaks their silence with his statement and conniving smile.

"Holy fuck, you don't know when to stop." Every fucking muscle in my body is tense and I'm already standing to my feet. I know it'll only take two steps until I'm close enough to hit him and I crave the feeling of his nose breaking under my fist. The discoloured and swollen skin would match his eye and my knuckles, but it wouldn't be anywhere near enough to get rid of the anger. Besides, Amanda is already pulling me back and yelling at me to stop.

"What the hell is wrong with you lately?" She demands, turning me around to face her.

"There's nothing fucking wrong. He's being an immature bitch about everything and I'm fucking done with it." I tell her. The volume of my voice increments, but it's not enough for one of the supervisors to hear.

"You're both impossible to deal with!" She hisses, still standing between Sam and I. Everyone at the table and around us watches the scene, but don't bother to step in. Seeing what we'll do is more entertaining than breaking us up.

"We're going somewhere else," Amanda addresses me, already pulling my arm as she walks me away from Sam. I'm still fuming with anger and I can't think or see straight, wanting to turn around so I can get the satisfaction of having at least one hit.

Amanda takes me to the farthest end of the room at an empty table. Someone's bag is there, but she doesn't notice as she sits down.

"What happened?" She asks. She sounds calm, but the look on her face says otherwise.

"You saw what happened. He deserves it."

"You two weren't like this before." She reminds me and I roll my eyes. I can't fucking standing it when she tries to get me to talk about shit when I'm angry. It makes me more pissed off.

"Well he wasn't such a prick before."

"Let's face it, you're both pricks." She responds, her expression unchanging. "Every time he brings up Marcel, you get offended."

I look at her in disbelief.

"Maybe because he's being offensive?" I wonder sarcastically. She's going to bitch about this later, but I'd rather wait than do it now. I'll say something and make everything worse.

"But you can't-"

"Look, I'm not going to say I know what I was doing wrong or tell you that I'll be better. I'll talk to you when I'm not pissed off."

I've already said all the wrong things, but I don't give a damn.

When I stand up, I see someone walking towards us and hope it isn't Sam so I actually have a chance of not being kicked out again.

I look over at Marcel and already want to yell at him for no reason.

He looks intimidated as he makes his way over and I groan.

"What do you want?" I complain and his face turns red as his eyes flicker away from my cold stare.

"I - um - I'm just grabbing my bag." He stammers and I already feel shitty for being so fucking angry all the time.

He reaches for his bag and closes it, putting it over his shoulder. He looks at me once more before looking away and I see my opportunity to leave.

"I have to talk to him. I'll see you later." I walk away before she can stop me.

Marcel looks at me strangely, looking a bit irritated with what I said. He's usually the first on my list of people pissed at me, so I'm not at all surprised.

"Just walk." I tell him and he doesn't say another word. I follow him to wherever the hell he decided to go in the first place, which is away from all the people I can't stand looking at.

"What did you have to say?" He wonders when he sits down and I'm still standing.

"Nothing." I shrug, looking around the room for somewhere else to be. I'm calm now, but going back around Sam would set me off again.

"Then why did you-"

"To get away from her." I quickly respond. He doesn't reply, sitting in front of me quietly and awkwardly.

I look back to the table, seeing Amanda making her way over there. She probably saw me walk over with him and I find an empty table for me to sit at for the next few minutes before they see who I'm with.

I walk away from him without saying anything, trying to clear my head of all the stupid shit that just happened. I get angry so much people don't even have to do anything for me to yell at them.

When the bell rings, everyone crowds their way into the halls. I go to my locker without looking for anyone, grabbing my things to head to class. I see Sam walking with Trent a few steps in front of me and don't try to catch up. They won't hesitant to piss me off again and I have to constantly remind myself that I'll get into shit for hitting one of them.

I watch them as they walk and notice them beginning to talk about something. My eyes scan the crowd and I see Marcel by his locker with two textbooks and a black binder stacked in his arms, trying to get it to fit on the top shelf.

_Fucking idiot._

Sam and Trent get closer and move to his side of the hallway. I know they have huge grins across their faces and Marcel is oblivious to what's happening. For a split second I think of telling them to stop, just in spite of what they said earlier. If I can't do shit, maybe they shouldn't either.

I think too long and they already push the books to the ground and keep walking. It's stupid and childish, and I have to push away the guilty feeling as I see a familiar look of pain in his expression I knew too well. It makes my stomach twist uncomfortably and I only think of stepping in and apologizing on their behalf for a second. He tries to pick up his things quickly, fumbling a little more, but no one helps him.

I stare straight ahead when I walk by him.

 

Marcel's POV

Ten minutes. If I stay here ten minutes, it will be enough to breathe and convince myself this won't be bad.

The presentation will only be five minutes, but it's still five minutes of people staring at me or laughing at me with their friends or thinking of how fucking annoying I am. The silence will be deafening and standing in front of all of them will make this day shittier than it already is.

What Sam and Trent did earlier wasn't that big of a deal, but that doesn't mean I liked having everyone walk by after and do nothing but laugh.

My head is swimming with the endless possibilities of the wrong things as I try to focus on what I was going to say and what questions Mr. Reynolds might ask. I think of Louis doing something or saying something to me again and the weird thing that happened at lunch and how I thought I would be more angry to see him there and have him talk to me than I was.

I think until I can't breathe. I think until oxygen seems like a myth people tell you believe things will be fine when nothing ever is. It doesn't get you away from places with too many people. The laughter I've heard from years and years builds up and I can hear and feel it all at once. My entire body aches and the thought of death from suffocation creeps into my mind as I grip onto the countertop.

_It will pass._

My ribcage shakes and I want to pass out so I can stop thinking. My eyes are blurry and my head throbs, but the thoughts don't subside.

I think of holding my breath long enough to make everything go black. I didn't like ending up in the hospital for this, but it was better than being here and having to be in front of all those people.

My lungs are already burning and screaming for air, but I can't give in. My body still hurts and my hands shake and when I breathe in, the oxygen smoothly moves it's way into my lungs and back out again. I'm not shaking and my face is the only thing that slightly stings with tears. I'm confused, but I don't question why it stopped. It just did and thats what I wanted.

I'm standing in front of the mirrors still and my knees feel weak, but they're strong enough to keep me upright. I don't get what's happening and I guess I never do, but I look at the time and realize I'm later than I said I would be. A bit of panic sets in again, but it's not enough to slow my intake of air again.

I have to tell myself that I'll be okay a few times too many before I bring myself to wipe my face from the tears and walk out of the confined space.

As I reach for the door, someone is already pushing it open and makes me take a step back.

"Oops." I apologise as the person bumps into me.

I look down to blue eyes and take another step back.

"Hi." Louis says, nervously flickering his eyes away from me.

I look away from him. My eyes are probably still red and I wipe them again so he doesn't notice.

He's still standing in front of me, but he doesn't say anything else.

"What are you doing here?" I ask and he nods, as if he just remembered why he was in front of me.

"I was being an arse to Mr. Reynolds so he made me come find you." He explains and I still don't make eye contact with him.

"I was just leaving." I tell him. I feel more awkward and nervous the more he stands in front of me, but only because I don't want him to see me cry. He'll think it was because he didn't help me or something then laugh at how much of a pussy I'm being or something.

"Shit, were you crying?" He asks, trying to look me in the eyes as I move away from him again.

"I have to get to class." I insist, but he doesn't move out of the way.

"You were." He states as soon as I make eye contact with him. He should have sent someone else to come. Everyone knows he hates my guts. I'm already waiting for his hateful comments.

"Leave me be." I try to move towards the door, but he steps in front of me again.

"What did I do?" He immediately wonders and I roll my eyes with a sigh.

"Nothing."

"Was it because of Sam?"

I pause for a second too long even though it wasn't really the problem, it only added to everything else going on.

"No." I finally answer and he crosses his arms, obviously not believing me.

"He's fucking stupid." He says and I look at him strangely, not expecting him to say anything near that.

"Since when do you care?" I'm reminded again of all the things he's said and done, making sure I stay angry at him.

"I..." He trails off without an answer and I can't remember ever seeing him that unsure. "Is is because of what he did?" He brushes off my question and I don't blame him, though it only makes me want to know the answer more.

"Not really - well kind of - but it doesn't matter." I don't know how I decided to tell him, but I just wanted to leave. Mr. Reynolds would get angry with us if we were any later.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He apologises and my eyebrows furrow together as I shake my head.

"It's not your fault."

"It kind of is." He tells me. I'm still surprised that's he's saying all this after everything, but he might want something out of it. That's usually what's going on whenever he decides to apologise.

"How?" I wonder and he shrugs, hesitant to answer my question.

"I told them I didn't give a shit about you and they could do whatever they wanted again."

I frown and feel a familiar pain in my chest, asking "Why?"

He leans against the wall and shrugs, saying, "Because I'm a fucking idiot too and I hated what you said."

I don't now how to respond to the sudden confession.

"It was true." I tell him.

I'm prepared for his denial, but we both know I'm right. He never wants to admit he's wrong.

"No it wasn't." He rejects and I almost laugh.

"You know it was."

He holds his hands up and shakes his head with a smile.

"We're not getting into this." He informs me and I let out the smallest of laughs. We'd start yelling that we hated each other if we went on about everything.

I can't understand why I'm so calm about him being here, but I don't tell him to leave or throw the things he's said in his face to get him mad again either.

"And... I kind of care about you." His statement sounds more like a question, but my eyes still widen no matter how he says it. "I tried not to, but I feel shitty about everything I did."

I can't force away my smile, "Okay." I say and he nods.

"Yeah."

He still doesn't move and we're still quiet.

"So why are you still here?" My question is a little abrupt, but he chuckles.

"Because I feel bad. Forgive me."

I raise my eyebrows and barely know what's happening anymore.

"You think I'm just going to forgive you?" I ask. I've done it too many times before to trust him.

"Yeah."

"Well I'm not." I say.

"Yeah you will." He continues, and I look at him like he's lost his mind. "That's how shit goes. I told you I'd be an arse again, and you knew you'd forgive me."

_What's going on?_

"That doesn't mean I'm going to drop everything that happened and forgive you."

I feel slightly proud of myself for not automatically giving in like I did before, and I almost expect him to get angry about it.

"I'll stop being such a dick," he suggests and I still can't find a reason as to why he's going on about this.

"I still won't forgive you."

He lets out a deep breath, but doesn't look anywhere near as pissed as I thought he would be.

"Fine. We don't have to be friends, but we'll be friendly. We'll stop hating each other and being shitheads to each other and it might make things easier. No strings attached."

I hesitate to say yes, but he isn't saying that we'll be friends, he's just saying that he won't be like he used to anymore. He's not getting anything out of it, so I can't find any other reason to say no other than childishly wanting to stay angry with him.

"Fine." I agree and he grins in accomplishment.

He finally steps out of the way and we quietly walk into the halls, towards our class.

I don't know what to say, but he'll break the silence soon. I'm still in shock, repeating everything he just said and try to find something I missed that makes it seem like he's getting something out of this.

"I'm honestly sorry. I should've stopped being so rude a long time ago." He speaks, looking forward as we keep walking.

I smile over at him, but look away before he can catch me

"It's in your blood. That sort of cleanse might take a while."

He laughs at my small joke, but it's enough to lift the madness of everything off my shoulders.

I still find myself waiting for him to do something and yell "just kidding" in my face, but we're quiet as we get to the classroom and nothing happens when we walk inside.

I'm calm, and we sit in our desks I notice Louis looking over at me.

He doesn't look away when he sees me and flashes a friendly smile. I don't feel myself blush, but I know the redness is there like it usually is. He looks away and I force myself to watch the presenter flip through slides for their project, explaining it all. I keep looking around at the other people and everyone is normal. They look tired and bored out of their minds, and Louis is talking to Adam beside him even though Mr. Reynolds glares at them and I quietly watch the student at the front, and the small factor of not being as panicked as I was twenty minutes ago makes this seem like a good day.

I've had too many broken promises to put complete trust in Louis anymore, but just thinking of what he said made this good.

_"Since when do you care?"_

I can't remember ever seeing him that unsure.

_"It was true."_

_"No it wasn't."_

_"You know it was."_

_He holds his hands up and shakes his head with a smile._

_"We're not getting into this."_

_"I kind of care about you."_

_"Forgive me."_


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel is closest to something he's never had.

Songs for this chapter:

[After the Storm - Mumford & Sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqUsAHTUPTU)

[Clarity - John Mayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULrz-6CSmmM)

 

Marcel's POV

Walking into school, the first thing my eyes settle on is the unnecessary amount of Christmas decorations scattered on the walls and windows. It's not even December and all the paper snowflakes and smiling Santa Clauses seem to be set up like it's Christmas day. Morning are never my favourite thing, and seeing everyone happy about the decorations somehow makes it worse. I already have my things for PE and even if my eyes droop from lack of sleep last night, I force myself to go to class. I take my time walking down the halls, everyone around me going in the same or opposite direction, pushing into a void where I don't exist to them. No one looks at me or speaks to me, and in a way I'm grateful. I like the quiet more than I like coming up with conversation starters.

I get into the changing rooms and find that they're completely empty. Checking my clock, I realize there's still another ten minutes until the bell rings and everyone else usually shows up a minute or two before so they're not late.

I sit on the bench and pull out my phone to waste time so I'm not ready and outside before everyone else shows up.

Barely two minutes later, the door is pushed open loudly and I jump at the sound, my eyes darting to Louis walking into the room.

He's looking down at first, but he sees me sitting down and he stops walking, flashing me a smile.

_Stop blushing._

"Hey." He greets, leaning against the lockers opposite from me.

I don't know what to say to him.

"Hey." I reply, finding it hard to make eye contact with him as he looks at me, the room filling with silence again.

He lets out a quiet laugh and I crack a smile.

"What?" I ask and he shrugs, turning around to open his locker.

"Are you always quiet around your friends?" He wonders, and I over-think his words before I answer.

"We're not friends," I remind him. It's awkward saying it to him, but I didn't agree to being friends with him. What he said yesterday made me want to be friends, but I'm too paranoid he's going to make this into a huge joke again. I'll be okay on good terms with him for now. After everything, that's all I can trust myself to do.

"I guess not." He replies, taking a few things out of his locker.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I wonder. He doesn't sound like he's being offensive, but the uneasy feeling I tend to have around him makes me think he's about to be.

"You basically forgave me yesterday." He informs me, turning around with a small smile still on his face.

"No I didn't," I deny. Even if he tries to prod an apology out of me, I'm sure I can hold my ground about this for once. It's reasonable not to forgive him.

"Well you agreed to being nice to each other."

I laugh, shaking my head.

"That's not forgiving you." I say.

" _It's the first step to forgiveness_." He speaks in a soft tone, sounding like someone off a mental health commercial.

He does a good job at making this hard, but a few joking words aren't enough to make me forget about all the humiliation.

"Weren't you the one who said we aren't going to be friends?" I wonder and his eyes flicker away before he laughs.

"I was pissed at you when I said that." He admits. "I didn't mean it."

I think of all the times he's said the words and all the different situations they were yelled to me. Every time, he was never really pissed at me for something. It always had to do with his friends or his beloved reputation.

"You seem to not mean a lot of things you've done." I comment and he shrugs.

"I'm trying to be a better person. You know, more apologetic and stuff," he says, a small smile still on his face. "I know I was an arse to you majority of the time and it was probably shitty to deal with, so I'm sorry."

"You already apologised yesterday." I tell him. Saying the same thing in a different way won't change my answer. He can't show up in a good mood and expect everyone to be happy with him again.

"And I'm apologising again." He reveals. "You were nice to me after all the shit I did and I didn't even care."

"Your friends didn't care and that's why you didn't care."

Our conversation is going in a direction I didn't think it would be. We're usually yelling at each other at this point.

"You're right." He points out. "And I hate admitting when I'm wrong."

I smile and look down to my hands, running my forefinger along my knuckles.

"You hated me about a week ago too," I say and he looks at me with a grin, shaking his head.

"You are really stuck in the past, aren't you?" He wonders and I laugh, realising I probably would have brought up a lot more if he didn't comment on it.

"It's kind of important." I tell him.

"Not as important as forgiving me..."

I'm determined to find out why he's so hooked on getting me to forgive him. I guess before it didn't take that long for me to give in, but I could never imagine that Louis will want something like this.

"You're really fixed on this whole 'being a better person' thing, aren't you?" I question and he nods.

"I heard it's good for the soul."

"What soul?" I joke and he rolls his eyes.

"You'll notice I can actually be nice sooner or later." He points out and I like the thought, but need more convincing.

I'm about to bug him about everything he's saying again when the door opens, Sam and Trent's loud voices filling the room.

They both stop and look at the two of us, silenced by our being here alone.

I look to Louis and he looks back and forth between the three of us in front of him. He seems amused with them watching us, but I'm so used to him being different when his friends are around that I won't be surprised if he starts ignoring me. Despite the things he's said, trusting him isn't something I can just do.

"Why didn't you come to practice last night?" Louis asks, breaking the thickening silence. He only started the conversation between them, but it's enough for my expected disappointments to start appearing.

  
Louis' POV

"Why didn't you come to practice last night?" I ask, trying to make the situation less awkward. They're obviously going to say shit about me talking to Marcel, but caring what they think never seems to get me anywhere. They're dicks basically all of the time, and Marcel is never like that until I gave him a reason to. Even then, he never really said anything like they did.

"I was busy with other shit." He says, his eyes flickering to Marcel again as the two of them walk past us.

Marcel stands and walks to his locker as more people come into the room. He doesn't make eye contact with me, and seems more nervous as Sam comes back in our direction. He's doing his best to find more reasons as to why he shouldn't completely forgive me, but I don't think I'm going to give him one any time soon.

There's a loud banging on the door and Mr. Walton's voice yells at us to hurry, so all the conversations stop as we pile out the door.

All the girls seem to be ready and we start to squeeze together on the small bench. I see Marcel sitting at the far right, a small gap between himself and Rebecca, then there's another space between Sam and Trent. The two of them don't seem to notice I'm around and they'll probably be shitty to me if I sit down with them. Marcel is looking down at his hands, tracing the lines on his palms silently.

_Easy decision._

I sit between Rebecca and Marcel and he looks over at me, a little unsure if he should speak.

"Do you know what we're doing today?" I ask him, even though I know the answer. Mr. Walton is still dividing us up into teams, and we'll probably be on the same side because he's so used to me aiming for Marcel.

"I'm guessing it's still lacrosse." He points to the nets with lacrosse sticks on top and I grin. I could have came up with something else that didn't sound fucking stupid.

"I guess that's the smarter observation." I say and he laughs quietly, nodding in agreement.

"Louis and Marcel, you're on the end." Mr. Walton says and I look over to the rest of the team on the other side of the gym, already set up to play. "Your team will have three people sitting and I think you're old enough to substitute yourselves in."

"I'll sit first." Marcel volunteers as we get together with the team, and no one complains.

"Me too," I say and he looks at me with raised eyebrows. I look at the rest of the people in front of us and Sam trying to hold back his comments so I don't flip shit on him again.

I decide to pick the last person sitting because no one else is doing it. Out of all the people standing in front of us, I'm sure Ian is the only one who won't bitch about me being around Marcel, and the last thing I wanted was to put up with the shit Sam and Trent do.

"Ian. Sit." I say and he laughs at me, but sits down anyway.

The game starts and Marcel hasn't said anything, keeping a safe distance between us like I'll explode if he comes too close.

"I don't bite." I tell him and he smiles, shrugging without a word. "Are you really this quiet?"

He looks at me, still grinning as he nods his head. I look over to Ian, who is laughing to himself and shaking his head. I turn back to Marcel and he's still smiling, looking ahead at the game.

If he wasn't as quiet as he is, I don't think I'd like being around him as much. I'm so used to Sam mouthing off half the time that I can barely stand him unless he doesn't talk. Peace and quiet is a nice change I don't mind, along with someone actually having nothing bad to say. When Marcel does decide to talk, he's never a douchebag either. I'm not used to friends being like that around me. The only person who is ever nice to me is Amanda, but even then, there are other things about her that overpower that. She controls me too much and gets angry at all the little things I do.

I've cheated on her a few times before and she's never found out. She's not stupid, so I'm guessing she's her suspicions, but she's too loyal and obsessed over the fact that she has someone like me to fight about it and break up. A few months ago I was picking a fight just to see how pissed she would get, then ended up breaking up with her. It gave me the chance to fuck around with whoever I wanted. I hoped I would find something a little more exciting, even if it only lasted for one night. Everyone of them reminded me of Amanda's same, boring shit. I gave up on trying to find something better after that and we got back together when she drunkenly called me and said she missed me.

"So are we supposed to be planning for the winter formal or what?" Ian asks me and I shrug, not giving a shit about any dance. Everyone goes to wear overly expensive clothes and eat food while listening to overplayed loud music. Nothing is going to change this year, no matter who's setting it up. "There's winter shit all up and about this place and I'm sure we shouldn't even be thinking of Christmas until it's actually December."

"I don't know." I tell him honestly. I'd probably do everything I could to back out of set up duty or any other job that was involved with the event. We had enough people graduating to help out.

Before the conversation cuts off, I find an opportunity to bring Marcel into the conversation so he knows I'm not bullshitting about my forgiveness thing. I'm not embarrassed to talk to him in front of my other friends and I shouldn't do anything to make him think I am.

"Do you know?" I ask and he looks at me, raising his eyebrows.

"Hmm?" He asks, turning to face me a little more.

"The winter formal. Do you know if the grads have to organise everything?"

He thinks about it for a moment and without thinking, shrugs his shoulders silently. He doesn't notice he's still not talking and I guess it's a habit after not having many people talking to him.

"Seriously?" I ask with a laugh. "Have you lost your voice?"

He grins and his face turns red at my observation.

"Sorry." He apologises, fiddling with his hands. "I don't know."

He still speaks a little quietly, but it's much louder than shrugs and nods.

"Woah-" I stop him and he looks at me strangely. "No need to scream."

He rolls his eyes at the subtle joke, and I can hear Ian laughing on the other side of me.

"You guys are cute." He teases and I wrinkle my nose, nudging him with my elbow. His small comment on our behaviour doesn't bug me, because I know he won't ever piss me off like Sam does. He knows his limits and when to stop, whereas everyone else seems to have no filter when I'm around.

"Cute?" I ask in a disgusted tone. He could have used another word.

He smirks, still laughing.

"You're like a bickering couple. It's kind of sickening." He says and the thought of us like that makes sense, since we're always fighting and finding stupid reasons to be friends again. But even though there's only three of us, my eyes still flicker around to see if anyone heard.

I turn the conversation backwards, trying to get away from the sickening couple talk.

"So are you going to the dance?" I ask Marcel, just as the whistle blows and Ian suggests that we jump in before Mr. Walton scolds us for being irresponsible again.

"Probably not." Marcel answers, grabbing hold of a stick someone dropped on the floor.

"Why?" I ask, waiting for the game to start again. I know people can hear us, and I feel a sense of accomplishment that I'm the bigger person, doing whatever the fuck I want without counting all the eyes staring at me.

"I don't think anyone wants to go with me." He says with a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck.

"You don't have to have a date to go." I tell him, just as the whistle goes and I hear footsteps all around me. I still don't bother moving, and neither does Marcel.

"Well I don't really like big crowds," he admits. He keeps his eyes on the game in front of us like we were supposed to be on the bench still, not getting involved with the play.

I'm not surprised at his words, even during class presentations his face doesn't return to it's normal shade. He seems uncomfortable with more than one set of eyes on him at a time.

"It won't be too bad if you're around friends," I suggest and he laughs like the idea is completely mad.

"I won't have any friends there." He denies and I roll my eyes, leaning on my stick.

"I'll most likely be there." I say, right before I heard footsteps coming out way.

"Louis! Marcel! This isn't socialising time!" Mr. Walton yells from across the gymnasium.

As people come towards us, I make a good decision to focus on not getting trampled.

Before the crowd ploughs through us, Marcel looks at me with a wide grin that makes his eyes seem brighter.

"We can't be friends, remember?"

  
Marcel's POV

Things haven't been good for a long time, even on the good days. For a long time, I built castles around myself brick by brick, until everything around me distorted into black and grey. It got to the point where I had forgotten what warmth feels like, but didn't think about it too often because I could live without it.

But now, he's standing in front of me and his smile is like stepping into the sunlight. He looks at me and he sees me and there's nothing that can make it feel wrong anymore. I take my risks being as happy as I am, but the bad that plagued my mind before dissipates into nothing but laughter. I'm on a tightrope walking towards him, althought focusing on my balance gives me the time to decide a little bit of something is better than none at all.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good day.

Songs for this chapter:

[Every Breath You Take - Aaron Krause (cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBeFu5E4sLI)

[Make It To Me (stripped) - Sam Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULPDq02zavs)

 

Marcel's POV

Louis talks to me now. He doesn't seem embarrassed every time I'm around and he'll say hi when he's with his friends. It makes me want to forgive him for everything, but I don't think I can. Even if we end up being friends, it'll take a lot to make up for what he did. He can't start being nice think that all is good in our world.

I wouldn't mind being friends with him again though. I just don't want him expecting forgiveness only to end up getting angry when I say I can't forgive him. I don't see how I could after he put me through hell.

"What are you doing right now?" Louis asks me and I'm about to ask "what?" until I stop myself. I always say that when I know what people are asking.

"Um - nothing." I answer.

He grins and nods, continuing to walk with me to class.

"We're going to hang out then. As friends." He says, informing me rather than asking. "And don't say that we aren't friends, because we are."

I feel stupid for smiling.

"You say hi to me and occasionally start short conversations." I tell him. "I don't think that counts as a friendship."

I honestly want to stay mad at him for as long as I can, but there isn't an ounce of anger left in me to show. I've already agreed to the friends thing, I just haven't told him.

He rolls his eyes.

"Bullshit." He denies. "Drive to my place after school or I'll die of boredom. We'll do friend shit and it'll be fun."

I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

"Friend shit?" I repeat and he chuckles.

"Yeah." He confirms, and we walk into class. I can see his friends stare at us like they've been doing for the past few days, but I've quickly learned to ignore it like Louis does. He's not different around them anymore, so I shouldn't care.

We sit together in class, and it's not the awkward, you-piss-me-off silence anymore. I have to tell him multiple times to keep his voice down when the teacher glowers at him for not paying attention. I have anxiety thinking about her calling us out in front of everyone, but I think the only reason she isn't saying anything is because I'm usually so quiet.

Louis leaves class just as loudly as he was inside, ranting on about football. I throw in a few "yeahs" and nods so he knows I'm still interested, but I barely know what to say. If he was like me in any way, we wouldn't be able to talk for more than a minute or two before I ran out of things to say.

"I'm going home straight away, so I'll probably just meet you there." He says and I nod. We just got assignments in the last class, but I can do them later.

"I'll drop my stuff at home then I'll be there." I say. I probably would have gone straight there, but I'm convinced I would drive too fast out of unnecessary excitement and got there before him.

On my seemingly long drive, I think of today being the first day I ever really hung out with someone. I haven't had a real friend since I was younger and knew a girl named Amelia. We'd do things outside whenever we could until I started moving around. After that, I never got the chance to have anyone around again.

I guess Louis is absolutely nothing like the young girl, but I already have my hopes too high when it comes to our friendship. He's let me down so many times, I never thought we'd get to this point anymore.

I get to Louis' house after dropping my books at home and changing out of my uniform, trying to take my time on the drive there without making him wait too long.

I ring his doorbell, rocking back and forth on the heels of my feet as I impatiently wait for him to answer. The cool air bites at my skin and leaves goosebumps, and eve through my coat, the early December weather won't be anything but freezing.

When I hear footsteps, I'm almost ready to open the door myself so I can see him sooner. I still wait calmly, and he opens the door and lets me into his warm house.

I shiver a bit at the change in temperature and am about to take off my coat when he stops me.

"Keep it on. We're going into town," he says and I raise my eyebrows

"Are we going shopping?" I tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head,

"God, no." He denies. "I just need to grab my wallet then we'll leave."

Before I can ask any other questions, he's already jogging up the stairs.

I awkwardly wait at the front door for him. My hands are in my pockets and I look around at the area, starting to count the flowers in a vase as I wait for him to come back. He's only a minute, walking down as he's putting something in his pocket. He has a jacket over one shoulder and he manages to get the other arm through while opening the door, nudging me out.

"We'll take my car." He informs me, already pulling out his keys.

"Where are we going?" I ask, getting into the passengers seat of his chilled vehicle. He turns up the heat and places his hands by the vents to warm up.

"You're replacing Sam because you're funner." He says, not answering my question. I stop myself from correcting his english.

"So where are we going?" I impulsively ask again. He grins and starts driving.

"If you would let me finish..." He starts and I feel my face turn red when he laughs, backing out onto the road. "Sam and I would get bored out of our damn mind and grab a ton of pegs with a tenner, then go around and see how many we could stick on people without them noticing."

I look at him strangely, genuinely wondering if this was what they did in their spare time.

"You stick pegs on people?" I wonder and he smirks.

"It's better to do it in the winter because everyone thinks their arses will go blue from the damn weather so they put a shit ton of clothes on." He tells me. "We saw it in this YouTube video once and it's funny when people are walking around with twenty pegs on their backs."

I laugh and don't know how I'm supposed to do this without giving it away. I'd bump into the person or end up catching their skin on the peg sooner or later.

"This seems completely wrong." I tell him, twiddling my thumbs nervously.

"That's what makes it fun." He says mischievously.

I don't complain and let him drive. He turns the radio on when my silence fills the cars, and we don't talk much until we get to the mall uptown.

The shops are filled with Christmas decorations and sweets and areas with small gifts for stockings. There's colours of red and green and lights hung up everywhere.

"You seem to be the expert on this whole thing, so where do you find the pegs?" I ask and he motions for me to follow him.

We make our way through the isles and Louis shows me to a small shelf with bags of them filled with pegs. He takes two and hands one to me, going back to the front to pay.

"So we just stick them on people?" I ask when we walk back out where everyone is walking about.

He shrugs and opens a small hole is his bag.

"Yeah." He agrees, letting out a small laugh. "You make it sound like the most boring thing to do."

I shake my head, smiling.

"It won't be too bad." I admit, still not understand the big joy in sticking things on people.

Thirty minutes later we've got fifteen pegs on a lady in a thick coat and five dangling off the ends of her long hair. People stare at us and some of them giggle harmlessly, but the woman is too busy talking to the man beside her to even notice. My stomach hurts from laughing and my smile doesn't disappear.

"How does she not see?" I whisper and he puts his forefinger to his lips, shaking his head as he digs into the bag for another peg. He attaches it to the hood of her coat and I bite the inside of my cheek. I have one in my hand and I wait for her to get back into her conversation with the man next to her.

Someone grins at me as they walk by, but no one says anything. They assume we know the person, or assume we're rowdy teenagers without a care in the world.

We follow her with silent laughter until there's nowhere else to place the pegs and she's talking about finding a toilet.

We keep going until she finds a restroom, and Louis and I sit on a bench, watching as the man falls behind and looks at her coat.

He stops her with a large grin and pulls one off, showing it to her. She reaches behind her and feels the rest of them, eyes widening in surprise. Her cheeks flush a light rose colour and I'm relieved when the corners of her lips turn up into a smile and she starts laughing harder than the man and harder than the people who saw us putting them on her. Her minimal embarrassment makes the joke more entertaining because guilt would slowly begin to sink into all my nerves if she was mortified enough to never want to be seen again.

Louis and I walk away from the area, unable to contain our laughter.

"Holy shit," he breathes, taking a seat at a table near the entrance. "I have to be honest, I didn't think you'd be that bold."

"That's quite offensive." I joke and he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. He crumples up the plastic bags that used to hold all the pegs, throwing it into the bin beside us.

"Well I'm starving." He says, hopping to his feet even though we just sat down. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

I haven't eaten since lunch, and even then I was too busy reading to finish what was in front of me.

"Yeah... I don't come here a lot. Where's a good place to go?" I ask , standing with him.

"No where." He chuckles. "We'll drive somewhere better."

I follow him back out the building to his car and we start driving away from the mall. My control freak of a subconscious wants to ask his where we're going, but he'll get to it eventually. I interrupted him last time without even noticing.

He keeps the radio going, a little quieter than before so he can keep talking.

I watch his lips as he watches the road and talks about the time he was "pegging" with Sam and the security caught them and tried calling their parents to punish them. He smiles as he tells met they gave him their phone numbers, saying they were out of town for work. After telling them their jobs, the guard didn't believe them. He wouldn't stop apologising after calling all parents in the middle of meetings with important people for a small prank their sons were playing.

He keeps smiling and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He doesn't look at me, and I'm glad because I can carefully see the way his stormy eyes turn to a clear sky and his mouth curves up into a smile and how he talks to me like he's been doing it for ages.

I do better than I thought at carrying on the conversation, and sooner than I like he's parking in the lot of a hotel.

"Why are we here?" I wonder out loud, getting out of the vehicle with him.

"The pub has the best burgers." He informs me, shoving his hands in his pockets as we walk towards the building.

"The pub?" I question. I thought he was joking, but we keep walking inside and I see doors saying 18 and over.

"Louis, you're not even seventeen." I say with laughter, and he walks right past the door.

"That's why we take the back." He guides me through a long hallway with elegant paintings hung on the wall.

We're back outside again, and there's a large, red rubbish bin to the left of us. A few feet away from it, there's another door that Louis is opening.

"Just don't say anything and they won't care." He tells me, gesturing for me to go first.

"I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be here." I say quietly. I feel people's eyes on me as we walk through, but Louis shushes me and tells me to keep going. My heart is beating quickly and I look at the floor the whole time, only glancing up to make sure I don't run into anything.

Louis starts walking ahead of me, turning into the area of hot burners and ovens and people in white with knives in their hands.

"Louis..." I say cautiously, tugging on the sleeve of his coat to pull him back. Nothing about this feels right, and I'm ready to have someone catch us and scream at us to get out.

"It's okay." He tells me with a chuckle. He walks to a man who's got a variety of vegetables on a saucepan, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"Hey, Pat." Louis greets, keeping his hands on the man's shoulders. Pat looks over at him with a grin, rubbing his hands on the apron around his waist.

"The usual?" He wonders and I look back and forth between the two of them, unaware of what was going on.

Louis looks to me and holds up two fingers.

"Make it two. I've got a guest." He says and Pat turns to me, nodding his head.

"Sounds good. Shouldn't be too long." Pat tells him and Louis says thank you before walking me to the back of the large room again, where a table sat beside a metal refrigerator.

Louis looks to me, laughing when he probably sees the way my eyes are flickering to everyone else and the worried frown I have.

"Calm down," He laughs, getting comfortable in his seat. "My dad has owned this place for years. I can go wherever the hell I want."

Relief floods through me and I'm able to sit in the room without feeling the need to get out.

"Oh," I reply, stupidity running through me for acting so cautious all the time. I knew Louis' dad owned a hotel here, I just didn't know which one.

Someone is walking towards and I look up as he makes his way over. He has a piercing through is eyebrow and wears a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up so tattoos peek out the sides. His hair and eyes are dark and he's handsome in a way I can't put into words, but I feel myself getting nervous when he gets closer. He has a hard look until he sees Louis.

"Hey, Louis." He says and Louis smiles as he pulls up a chair. He looks in his mid-twenties, and notices me sitting with him, staring at me in a way that's almost judgmental.

"Who's this?" He asks.

"Marcel." Louis introduces and I shake his hand. "And Marcel, this is Derek."

Derek nods, the judgmental look on his face disappearing.

"You haven't been around in a while." He says to Louis and he shrugs with a laugh.

"I've been busy."

"Sure." He chuckles, looking down at his hands. "So how's that girlfriend of yours?"

"Still a pain in the arse." Louis answers in a joking tone, but I don't think his words could be any more truthful.

"She's still hot though." Derek says. Louis doesn't seem bothered by his words, and I don't know how to add to the conversation so I stay quiet.

"She's like ten years younger than you." Louis chuckles and Derek shrugs.

"First of all, I'm not that old. Secondly, that doesn't stop her from being hot." He replies with a grin. Louis rolls his eyes and I notice it's something he's been doing a lot.

Derek looks to me and laughs a little.

"You don't talk much, do you?" He asks and I feel myself blush, shaking my head.

"Not really." I admit and he laughs more when he looks back to Louis.

"Well that's new." He says. "Usually you've got someone who can't stop talking."

Louis looks at me with a smile and I have to look away.

"I was in the mood for a change." Louis says. "But don't you have a job or something?"

Derek stands with another laugh.

"Yeah. I guess I should get to it. Unlike you, I'll get fired if I do whatever I want."

"I'll give you a letter of recommendation somewhere else if it ever happens." Louis jokes and I smile, clasping my hands together in my lap as Derek leaves.

"Is being super shy your thing or something?" Louis wonders, leaning forward on his elbows.

_"I'm sure you're aware of anxiety disorders?" He speaks and I nod. "It looks like you're showing signs of one. It could just be socially, but it is still a problem that will make your life a bit harder."_

"Yeah... But it's really just when I meet new people and stuff." I say, even though the "super shyness" seemed to happen every day.

"Is that why you blush a lot?" He asks and I feel my face heat, causing him to smile.

"Let's not talk about it." I say, uncomfortable just thinking about it. I still laugh awkwardly, but I'd rather not talk about the things on my mind every day.

"Sure." Louis agrees, leaning back again.

"So why do you stay with Amanda if she's such a pain in the arse?" I ask and he grins, running his fingers through his hair.

"Because she has a good arse." He tells me and I laugh, shaking my head as I see Pat coming over with two plates of food.

"Thanks, man." Louis says and Pat smiles, nodding.

"It's not like I have a choice..." He jokes and Louis chuckles as he walks away.

He looks to his plate and picks up his burger, taking a large bite.

"But she's honestly not that bad. We've just been together long enough that we annoy the shit out of each other." He speaks with his mouth full, and I try not to smile as he tries to keep his food from falling out.

"And fuck, she's still making me ask her to that dance thing." He groans.

"She's making you ask her?" I wonder, picking at the chips on the side of my plate. "You're dating. Aren't you just supposed to go together?"

He shrugs, swallowing his food.

"That's what I say, then she got all pissed because all of her friends were getting asked so she wanted me too." He tells me. I realise I'm probably the only one in this damn town that isn't going. "You're still not going?"

I shake my head, looking down at the burger and wonder how the hell I'm supposed to fit it in my mouth without making a fool out of myself.

"I don't really like big crowds," I say, even though I probably wouldn't have went if there was a few people.

"You should come anyway." He insists. "It'll be boring as hell, but it's alright if more people show up."

"I don't have anyone to go with." I remind him. I would rather stay home than awkwardly stand around with Louis while his friends stare at us.

"Well show up if you want." He tells me with a grin. "I'll just be having so much fun without you."

I smile and finally decide to take a bite of my food, no matter how big it is.

"Being friends with you is pretty great." I admit and he laughs.

"It's the food, isn't it?" He asks and I nod, wiping my face in case there's bits around my mouth.

"Yeah. I've been missing out."

He laughs and I don't feel worried or embarrassed or scared. I've needed a friend for a while and despite all he's done, I can forget about it long enough to be happy.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis doesn't let himself feel.

Louis' POV

_Everything is dark and I can barely see. There's the odd flicker of dull light that bring flashes of objects I know but can't name. It's frustrating and I reach out to grab something or find a wall with a light switch, but all I hear is laughing around me. It's too dark to even understand what's happening, but I can't stand it. I feel suffocated and like everything is clinging to my skin, covering me in layers of discomfort. I want out._

_Something starts to touch my shoulder and the small pressure of their hand against me turns the lights on. It's only splashes of bright colour that incandesce onto people walking by, but I can see and it feels so good. The laughter of everyone is inside me and it makes the claustrophobia disappear and the anxiety of being alone dissipate. I reach out to whoever's hand is still on my shoulder, and they start to hold my hand as they guide me through everyone._

_Soon we're alone and he's close enough to take away the frustration and anger I felt before. I look up and green eyes glow as his mouth moves, telling me something between smiles. I don't know what it is, but I keep laughing. Each minute I stay here, we get closer and I get happier. I don't know where the hell we are, but worrying about it soon slips my mind when he laughs again. The colourful lights illuminate him and I get warm as out chests touch. We might be hugging and it feels right. I like it here and I don't want to leave. I don't want to go anywhere without-_

I hear something moving loudly and a voice ringing in my ears in the most unsettling way.

"... Or you'll be late again." The voice finishes and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep out the light. I groan and bury my face in my pillow.

"What the fuck..." I groan and feel a pain against the side of my head.

"Watch your mouth. You cuss too much." My mother scolds and I groan again. "Out of bed. Now."

"Five more minutes." I tell her and she nudges me again. "I don't think so. I have to get to work and you'll sleep away the rest of the morning." She says sternly and I roll onto my back, still not opening my eyes.It's too bright and I can't stand the sound of her voice when she nags me.

"I'll get up." I say.

"You're almost an adult, I shouldn't have to do this anymore." I wonder if I can roll my eyes while keeping them closed.

"I'm getting up. You can leave." I tell her, doing my best not to seem annoyed so she doesn't get pissy at me again. I can't stand people in the morning, let alone people trying to get me to do things I don't want to do.

She leaves and I sit up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I sigh and tilt my head back, wishing I didn't have to get up so fucking early until my complaining thoughts are interrupted.

_The dream._

My eyes shoot open and I sit forward, immediately stressing about the fucking thing that wasn't even real. Marcel was there and somehow things were better than good. I can remember being angry then happy and thinking about it now, I have the urge to push away the entire thing like it never happened. I don't know what it was, but I'm uneasy trying to figure it out.

Something about it feeling right makes it wrong and I'm sick and confused when the thoughts won't go away. Everything was so real, I'm surprised I didn't think I was with him when I woke up.

_With him?_

I rub my cheeks with my hands, trying to wake myself up so I can tell myself it's a stupid fucking dream and it doesn't mean anything. It's just because I was hanging out with him yesterday, making things different. I was happy, and it shouldn't be a big deal. I'm happy most of the time, then pissed the rest of it. Right now I'm angry that I can't forget about it and I get out of bed to distract myself with being angry about school.

I have to ask Amanda to that winter formal shit when I don't even want to go in the first place. She repeatedly told me that I needed to _officially_ ask her because it's _gentlemanlike._  When I said we shouldn't even go, she stopped talking to me for the rest of the day.

I slightly enjoyed the twenty four hours, then Adam went ahead and said I was being a dick so I apologised and said I'd ask her to the damn thing.

I think I'm still regretting it.

~*~

"So I was thinking..." I sit next to Amanda and she looks at me, along with the three other girls she's around. "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to the winter formal with me?"

I take her hand and smile and she raises her eyebrows.

"This is how you're asking me?" She wonders and I groan.

_What does she want from me?_

"How would you like me to ask you then?" I laugh. "Do you want balloons and a banner and music?"

She grins and shrugs.

"Maybe..." She suggests and I bury my face in my hands. She isn't the least bit joking about this, but I can only give her so much until she's crossed the line.

"Fine." I agree. Part of me hopes she'll be embarrassed, but I know better than to assume she won't adore the attention.

"So, my love." I begin, still holding her hand in both of mine. "You have given me all I could ask for by being my lovely girlfriend, providing me with the utmost happiness any man has held."

She rolls her eyes, giving me the smallest of smiles.

"And after all that we've been through, I now hope that you will do me the honour of letting me take you to this amazing, important, extremely special winter formal."

I can tell she wants to say no to my sarcastic offer, but she has to know this is the most she is going to squeeze out of me. This is my version of banners and balloons.She laughs and her friends are staring at the two of us in envy, something I liked to see when Amanda would get me to do the odd romantic thing.

"You're maddening." She tells me.

_Oh, the irony._

"But since you put in all this effort to ask, my answer is yes." She says and I chuckle, kissing her cheek.

"Well it's about fucking time." I laugh. "You will be the death of me."

She hugs me tightly and I feel suffocated and a little uncomfortable.

_Soon we're alone and he's close enough to take away the frustration and anger I felt before._

_I look up and green eyes are bright as his mouth moves, telling me something between smiles. I don't know what it is, but I keep laughing. Each minute I stay here, we get closer and I get happier._

Amanda's still happily holding my hand when she pulls away from the hug, but I feel like she can hear my thoughts and know everything I felt in my sleep last night. The more I try to forget about it, the more the images are embedding themselves in my eyes and I feel like they're burned behind my eyelids every time I blink.

"Is everything okay?" Amanda asks and I look to her and her worried and confused expression.

"Yeah. Of course."

_Stop thinking about it. It means nothing._

"Oh. Okay."

_Kiss her._

I stand up and she turns her body to keep facing me, still concerned with my sudden actions. I lean down and press my mouth to hers because the dream means nothing.

_Then why does she feel like nothing?_

"I'm going to go get my food, but are you doing anything later?" I ask and she shakes her head."You can stop by the house whenever. I've got nothing going on tonight."

She smiles and agrees."Okay. Love you."

I kiss her again.

"Love you too."

_Nothing._

I walk away, confused and frustrated with everything. I tell myself it's just my mind fucking around and I'm being melodramatic about the whole thing. It was just a dream and I'm happy with my girlfriend. I'd be happy like that with lots of girls.

My parents are gone tonight and she could make up some excuse about staying at Emma's while she stays the night with me. It won't be the first or last time, and it's what I'll need to get rid of this dream bullshit for a while.I walk around the tables to the long line of people waiting for their meal. I'm almost there when I feel a large push against the side of my body, causing me to stumble.

"What the fuck-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't see-" Marcel notices me and cuts off his words, letting out a small laugh. "So is this how friends talk when they accidentally bump into each other?"

I grin and shrug.

"I thought you were some other annoying shithead." I admit. "But I guess you should have been paying more attention. Don't those glasses have a purpose?"

He adjusts them on his face, and my words adding a tinge of pink to his cheeks as he laughs at my joke.

_I don't know where the hell we are, but worrying about it soon slips my mind when he laughs again._

I take a step back and quickly gather my thoughts, regaining the strength to push them away.

"Says you." He tells me. "You were probably staring at the ground the whole time."

"Yeah..." I chuckle, scratching the back of my head nervously as we keep walking.

"Uh - you okay?" He asks and I look at him, quickly looking away.

"Yeah, I'm good." I say, coming up with quick excuse. He's the last person that needs to know. No one should fucking know. "I'm just tired."

~*~

"I'm here." I hear a voice rings throughout the room and I jump a little as Amanda walks into the room.

"Hey." I greet and she looks around, grinning.

"All alone?" She asks and I smirk, already impatient for the distraction she'll give without hesitation.

"Why else would I want you here?" I tease and she rolls her eyes, putting her hands on my neck.

"How affectionate." She replies, kissing me.

Her lipstick puts an unpleasant, chemical taste on my tongue, but I tell myself it will go away sooner or later. It usually does when I get used to it.

I take her coat off and she smiles into my mouth as I toss it to the side, bringing her towards the staircase. My hands stay on her hips and push under her shirt, her cool skin giving me goosebumps. It's different beneath my hands, but I'm used to it in some ironic way. She runs her small hands through my hair and her tongue pushes against mine as her lips aggressively move, trying to get me to walk up the stairs backwards while still attached to her.

I make sure not to stumble and bring her into my bedroom, pulling off her clothes as her hands work on undoing the button on my trousers. I feel them come loose around my hips and I push them down my legs, pushing them to the side. She takes her shirt off and lies on my bed, taking my hands to make sure I stay next to her. She grips at my skin, pulling me down on her so our bodies press together.

My mouth attaches to her neck and she lets out a moan, continuing to run her fingers through my hair. She pulls at it gently before dropping them to the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my torso. Her fingers run up my stomach and back down my sides, and I'm not even hard yet. Kissing her isn't nearly enough to get going and I take off my boxers, preparing to get something out of this.

She looks down and me and a grin spreads across her face as she places her hands on my shoulders, getting me to sit down with my feet on the edge of my bed. I lean back onto my hands, trying to get my legs comfortable in front of me as she gets down on her knees.

She takes me in her hand and is already bringing me towards her mouth. I can feel her lips against me and I close my eyes, only thinking of friction between our skin.

It takes more time than I'd like to get hard enough, but it's not my fault she isn't as good as she could be. But I'd feel shitty if I told her she was shitty, so I keep quiet. I can still manage to get off either way.

She stands up and I cup the back of her legs, pulling her down so she straddles my lap. Her arms drape around my neck and I reach behind her, finding the clasp of her bra.

I pull it away from her body and drop it beside her, already bringing my mouth to her full tits. She moans when my tongue makes contact, moving in circles around the sensitive skin. My teeth gently bite at her, increasing the amount of pleasure she feels.

I keep my hands on her thin waist and her fingernails dig into my shoulder a little too deeply, bringing me an uncomfortable amount of pain.

She quickly gets impatient and lowers her body a bit more, grinding herself against me. Her underwear is wet and I don't know how the fuck she gets horny so fast.

I reach into the chest of drawers beside my bed and pull out a box of condoms, taking one out before tossing the rest to the side.

We'll probably only need one.

I rip open the package and roll it over myself as a smile crawls across her lipstick-covered mouth.

She takes me in her hand and positions me under her body, slowly lowering herself until I completely fill her.

Moans and my name fill the room as she raises and lowers her hips continuously, and I do everything I can to make this better than it usually is.

I'm always reminded of my friends talking to me about sex and saying how fucking great it felt and that they don't know how people can wait so long to be with whoever the hell they're dating. Before I lost my virginity, Sam told me that I was missing out on how hot it was and how great it makes you feel. I was impatient to wait when Amanda and I got together, but she always wanted to take things slow because she was a virgin too and wanted to make sure I loved her or some shit before we got into this stuff.

When we fucked for the first time, I don't think I had ever been more disappointed. She came pretty quickly, and I didn't even get the chance to. It sure as wasn't the fucking incredible high everyone talked about, but I sure as hell wasn't going to tell them that. Amanda thought I was "super romantic" about it all, but I wanted more. After we had sex again, I convinced myself it was just her because she was a little awkward and insecure about everything and that she'd just get better later on.

Now it's later on, and wanking off still feels better than sex.

"Oh God..." Amanda's moans bring me out of my thoughts and I feel her clench around me as she rocks her hips, moving her hair to one shoulder before leaning down to kiss me.

I tense up and comfortlessly taste the blowjob I was given as her tongue pushes past my teeth desperately. I'm relieved when her lips fall to my neck and she begins to suck. I feel purple marks being formed and I've never minded. When people see, they know it's from her and there's something accomplishing about it.

She straightens her posture again and moves quicker over me, her moaning getting louder. Her thigh muscles tighten and she completely clenches around me as she comes, her legs shaking. Her body is warm and covered in a thin layer of sweat, and it sticks to me when she moves faster, riding out her orgasm.

She eventually brings herself to a slower pace, lifting her body off of me. She breathes deeply and I throw the empty condom in the bin beside my bin, feeling her arms wrap around my waist.

I go back to her, frustrated as she brings herself close to me and rests her head on my chest. Her skin is sticky and warm and I fail at my attempt to get comfortable with her body still against me.

"I love you." She says and my mouth is dry. I wrap my arms around her and pretend to feel something again, kissing the top of her head.

"I love you too." I lie, the words heavy on my tongue like they never should have been spoken in the first place.

When I don't say anything else, she falls asleep and I tell myself to feel something for her. I want to feel anything that isn't this - even if _this_ is nothing at all. I start to wonder if it's all I've ever felt and all I'll continue to feel, and soon I'm convinced the only change I'll feel with another person is dreaming of them laughing.

Soon, I look at the clock and realise I've been staking at the ceiling for two hours while Amanda has no trouble keeping her eyes shut.

 _Nothing_.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis won't admit it.

Songs for this chapter:

[God Damn You're Beautiful - Chester See](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVl5s1e0Oo4)

[Certain Things - James Arthur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44GmZdn6_oo)

 

Louis' POV

After a few days, I honestly think I'm getting better at the non-douchebag thing. Only with Marcel, though. Almost everyone else still pisses me off and I manage to let them know.

And everything is okay with the rest of my friends. They still bug the shit out of me for being friends with Marcel and it makes him uncomfortable so he always sneaks out of being anywhere near them with me. He still says he likes sitting alone at lunch and when I invite him to sit with other people around, he doesn't want to come. We'll only hang out or talk when we're alone.

I don't really care that he doesn't want to be around other people, I just don't think he knows I'm not asking him because I feel sorry. I actually don't mind being around him.

Then there was another dream last night.

It was confusing again, but I know he was there. It made me want to get mad again, despite the calm and relaxing feeling it gave me. I woke up without exhaustion and it didn't feel weird until I started asking myself why. Then I started feeling different in front of him, but I'm sure I was just uncomfortable thinking about being close, but it didn't stop be from being around him either.

He's a good break from the other people I was with, if that makes any sense. If I'm with my they friends too much they manage to piss me off about something, so I can go hang out with Marcel if I don't want to be around him.

I might just be getting ill too. I never have dreams and have been feeling fucking weird this entire week.

I go downstairs in hopes that I actually won't be late today, taking one of my mums vitamins that she always says make something about your body healthier or some shit, and when I get to school on time, the first person I see is Marcel. I always expect him to be here whenever I am because he's always on time, and always wants to be ready or whatever for his classes.

"Hey." I say when he waves at me. I go over to him because I can't find anyone else, and he's probably the only one I don't find annoying in the morning.

"Hey." He replies and starts walking with me.

"You should seriously reconsider the winter formal because it's not too late to go and it's already shitty enough that I have to go." I tell him with a laugh. Having more friends there will make it a little less depressing.

"Why would I pay to go to something that's going to be shitty?" He asks, and I shrug with a grin. "I'd probably look like a flamingo doing ballet if I danced anyway."

I laugh at the idea and picture him in PE trying to do physical shit, getting that exact image.

"It wouldn't be too bad. And you don't even have to dance." I tell him, turning to open my locker.

"Well I don't even have someone to go with and I don't want to go alone." He says again, after all a denial I feel bad for pressuring him into coming, but I still don't get why he won't be around me and my other friends.

"You have friends going." I remind him and he scoffs jokingly.

"Who? You?" He teases and I roll my eyes, grabbing my maths book.

"That kind of sounds like an insult, dickhead." I fire back and he let's out a laugh, shaking his head.

"And dickhead isn't an insult?"

"It's in my every day vocabulary. Get used to it." I tell him, closing my locker.

We get to class and sit down and I see all our tests from two days ago laying face down on all our desks.

"Fuck," I groan, sitting down with Marcel. I already know my mark is going to be shit, I didn't do anything to prepare and barely knew what half the questions were asking.

"It can't be that bad." Marcel speaks, almost seeming like he was trying to comfort me.

I flip the paper over and see a _61_ circled in red pen.

"This is actually better than I expected." I chuckle honestly, and Marcel looks over at me with a grin.

"Do you need help again?" He asks and even though the mark is lower than the rest of my tests this year, I shake my head.

"No, it's fine." I don't want to make him feel like I'm using him again, even if I need it. I could probably do it on my own anyway, I just need to force myself to get up instead of complaining about how much I hated looking this shit over.

"Look, I know you're like this changed person and you want to be better for mankind or whatever, so I get that you aren't using me just to bring your grades up while making sure no one finds out we were in the same room together." He jokes and I fail at trying not to laugh. It's a shitty joke, but completely true.

I look at his lips when he smiles and feel my body get hot. I'm suddenly uncomfortable and the only excuse I can come up with is getting a fever.

"Fine." I agree, happy to know that I won't have to force myself and someone can do it for me. "I might not mind it this time."

"What's the difference from last time?" He asks and I clearly know my answer.

"I don't think you're so goddamn annoying." I smirk up at him and lean back in my chair.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He jokes and I laugh again.

I think I feel something in my body that adds to the heat, and remember last night.

_We're only sitting but I feel something pressing to the side of my thigh and I'm sure it's him. Even though fabric separates us, I can still feel him like his every thought was engraved in my skin._

I've stopped talking when my mouth goes dry and Marcel looks at me strangely. I can feel my facial expression dropping and I try to wet my lips and swallow.

"What's going on?" He asks and I shake my head, keeping my eyes away from him so it doesn't happen again. Maybe I'm allergic to something I ate.

"Nothing." I deny. "I was up late last night."

I remember waking up after the dream and I had only been asleep for an hour when I felt like the dream was an entire night. I don't get how it was possible, but I don't want to think about it.

I want to be pissed at Marcel for being in my head like that, but I know it sounds stupid as fuck so I just get pissed at myself for thinking that way

It's all probably a phase and I don't doubt that it'll blow over within the next week. I've never had a friend like Marcel and it makes things different, so I'm going to be a bit different. I'll get used to it and it's not like I'm going to stop being with Amanda to be around him.

We go up to the school's gym for PE and I put my headphones in so no one talks to me. Mr. Walton walks around the entire time to see who's actually putting in an effort and who's not doing shit so he can give them low marks.

I push myself harder than I probably should and I can feel my muscles straining under the weights, but it's a good distraction. My endorphin levels increase and I avoid Marcel at all costs to get away from any thoughts I don't need.

After class I'm talking with Trent about football so Marcel doesn't say anything to me, and he sits alone at lunch like he usually does.

In biology he's still quiet, but talks to me like he normally does and says he'll meet me at my place so we could hang out before I have to leave with Amanda to the dance. I agree, glad that we'd be alone so I don't find myself looking around at everyone, self-conscious that everyone might hear my thoughts.

"Did you want to come to mine to get ready tonight?" Amanda asks, and I already have my excuse plotted so I can turn her down without telling her it was because I'd rather be with anyone else. Especially tonight.

"I can't." I tell her. "I have to go do a bunch of stuff before tonight and pick up my suit and pick up that corsage you wanted."

I stop myself from saying _the one you basically demanded I buy_.

"Besides, aren't girls supposed to get ready together for this stuff?"

She mock-pouts and slides her arms around my neck.

"Yeah..." She sighs. "But you're still picking me up, right?"

"Yeah. I'll let you know when I'm on my way." I say and she gives me a numb kiss, dropping her arms from my body and takes a good step away from me. I debate on cancelling with her, but I don't need her bitching at me anymore. I'd rather be around friends, but her getting angry doesn't make seeing her any better.

"Okay." She agrees. "Just don't be late."

 

Marcel's POV

I go to Louis' about a half an hour after school, after I'm out of my uniform and into something I'm comfortable in.

He let's me inside and we go through his quiet house, into his room. I'm used to being here with him now, and not nearly as nervous as I was the first time. I still felt like it's a joke and he had some bet with his friends or something, but it seems casual now.

I don't like being around him when he's with Sam or Trent though. I'm sure he'd act different in front of them because their views on me haven't changed. Louis still cares about what people think of him, even if he wasn't going to admit it. I'm not ready to see him like he used to be right now. After he's been kinder to me, I don't want to go back to the way we were.

I don't want to hate him again.

We play video games most of the time and Louis seems distant like he was earlier. He's been getting these random moments where he doesn't talk to me and looks uncomfortable when I look at him. I don't know what going on, and the tired excuse has been used too often to be believable.

He stops the game when his phone rings, dropping onto his back on his bed.

"Hey." He answers and I laugh a bit, setting the controller down. He looks at me and grins, sighing. "I said I couldn't, remember? I'm kind of busy."

"With video games?" I tease and he shakes his head, placing his fingers against his lips.

"I'm just... Grabbing that stuff for tonight." He explains and I immediately think he doesn't want Amanda to know I'm with him. I look away and trace the buttons on the controller.

It makes me angry more than anything, even if I don't want to get upset with him. If he keeps telling me we're friends, I don't get why he's still acting like this.

"I'll come get you in a few hours." He says. "Yeah... Okay. Bye."

He puts down his phone and leaves it on his bed when he sits up.

"Is Amanda jealous of me?" I joke, looking over at him for only a second.

"She actually might be." He laughs. "I don't know. She's just like that."

I let it go, wanting that to be a good enough of an excuse.

"You don't sound to happy about that," I point out and he shrugs.

"I'm used to it." He tells me, and I'm sure that's one of the most unhealthy things I've heard in a while.

"That sounds even worse." I comment, but he just laughs.

"Well I don't know," he replies, keeping his eyes on the screen. "We've been together a while so I kind of get sick of her sometimes."

I smile, but feel bad for him as I say lI know I'm not an expert on relationships, but maybe you should just break up with her." I grin at the idea of them not being together anymore, and somehow I feel like I'll have an advantage even if every other girl he sees would have a bigger chance.

It doesn't makes it hurt less.

He looks over at me with a smile and I try not to look at his lips.

"Who knew you were that smart." He jokes and I roll my eyes.

He laughs again.

"I told you it doesn't annoy me anymore." He tells me.

"Yeah right." I joke.

I like being this comfortable around him. I haven't had this before and it feels good not to be so nervous.

He jokes about Amanda a little longer and I go along with it, finding it amusing that he can talk about her like this.

"Hey... I should probably get ready for that thing." He tells me, standing up. "I still have to grab that corsage from the flower place before I go get Amanda."

"Oh yeah... I can go then." I say. I feel like saying I can leave is better than him telling me.

I'm sure I'm the most socially awkward person he's known.

"You don't have to go." He laughs. "We can head out when I'm done."

I sit back down and nod.

"Yeah, sure." I agree.

He opens his closet and pulls out his clothing for tonight, and I think he's going to go into his bathroom or leave the room or something, but he starts to change in front of me.

I don't know what the hell he's doing, until I realise literally every guy in PE doesn't go to the toilet to change.

"I should just show up in joggers and a shirt." He chuckles, starting to take his shirt off.

It's hard enough not to look at him, but I can't keep my thoughts off of him in his underwear.

"Amanda would probably cry in embarrassment." I say sarcastically, but he laughs because it's probably true.

I glance over at him, immediately feeling guilty. The image of him is engraved in my mind and I can't stop picturing him with his shirt half undone. He didn't notice me looking, but it's not like he can't notice me being ridiculously awkward.

"I don't even get why I have to get the corsage. It's fucking expensive for one flower thing and I thought we were only supposed to do it for prom." He complains and I glance over again, but he's dressed and has his trousers on. I'm slightly disappointed, but it's not like the image of him from before isn't still burned in my thoughts.

He pulls his jacket over his body and runs his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes.

Even in clothing, he still looks great and I don't know he can stay with someone that makes his smile fade. He deserves to be smiling like the sun, no matter where he is and who he's with.

I clear my throat and try to remember what we were talking about.

"It's probably because the school only has two dances a year and this is one of them." I say, trying to keep talking instead of just laughing and nodding my head. "This one gets a lot more money too because the whole school is going and they have a lot of..."

_Oh God_.

He looks across the room to me and I bury my face in my hands.

"And I'm blabbering again and I'm-"

"Don't apologise for everything you do." He laughs. "Talking isn't that big of a mistake you know."

I shrug and am still completely embarrassed, no matter what he says.

"Most of the time it is." I deny and he looks in his mirror, straightening his jacket.

"Then don't apologise in front of me because I'm used to all your mistakes." He jokes and I feel myself blush.

"No wonder you don't find me annoying." I continue, hoping my body heat dies down. "You just got used to me."

I stand up and he walks near me, taking his phone off the bed again.

"Well it's better than finding you annoying." He admits, placing his hand on my shoulder as we walk out the door.

The small touch makes the area warm and my muscles curve so his palm can fit at every angle. I don't have to force it and neither does he, but he looks up at me and realises how close we are, dropping his hand from me.

I lick my lips and keep my eyes away again. It's the same thing that happened earlier today, and our conversation comes to a complete stop. I wonder if he caught me looking at him earlier and he's just noticing that don't mind him being close to me.

I take a step back, but we keep walking.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" I ask him again, and he looks up at me briefly. We stop at the door and he shrugs before shaking his head.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He tells me. "I'm just not looking forward to spending the rest of my night like this."

He laughs a bit and opens the door, letting me out first. He locks it behind us and says he'll see me later before we get into our separate vehicles.

I look over at him before I drive away and he has his fingers pressed to his temples like he's trying to rub away a migraine.

When I end up leaving, he's still in the driveway.

 

Louis' POV

_Just friends. Just friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing this story so much I hope you guys are all enjoying it :)xx


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis begins to choose Marcel.

Songs for this chapter:

[Just a Little Bit of Your Heart - Ariana Grande](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0-50nRyuy8)

[Heartbreak Warfare - John Mayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeCClzNCfcA)

 

Louis' POV

"Hey, if you don't have anything going on after school we can start studying." Marcel suggests. It's funny when he gets eager to do something, but I always feel bad when I call him on it because he gets quiet and nervous.

"I'd really like to lie and say I have something going on, but my classes have turned to shit without you." I tell him.

"I know." He jokes, smiling over at me. "But how was your dance with Amanda last night? Just as incredible as you pictured it?"

I pretend to gag and he laughs.

"It was fucking awful." I say honestly. "And Amanda got pissed at me for being around my friends the whole time, so that's another thing we've got to fight over."

We walk towards the cafeteria and I ignore the people that still stare at us when we walk around together.

"No offence, but I really don't understand how people envy your relationship." He says and I wholly agree with him.

"Neither do I." I sigh. "They don't even know us. They just want to believe they're going to look as hot as us when and if they get into a relationship."

He shakes his head with a grin.

"You're still an arsehole half the time." He remarks and I no longer find those words offensive. I know they're true.

"Not to you." I truthfully tell him. "And that's all I was really working on, so you should be proud."

After he left the last time I saw him, I think I sat in my car another half an hour before I left my house. I could hear my phone ringing but I couldn't move because I felt sick while I was perfectly healthy. I was so glad when he left. I needed to be alone to clear my head of all the bullshit that was going on.

I couldn't stop thinking and it drove me mad.

I like being around him more than I like being around any other friends I've had. I like him more than I like my own girlfriend. It's fucked up and wrong, but I can't stop it from being true.

After he told me to break up with her, I had never thought about it more. It sounded so much more convincing coming from him than when other people told me. I know it's a shit relationship and we get mad at each other more than we like each other, but I somehow want to stay with her to prove something. I don't even know what I want to prove, but I feel weak thinking about leaving her.

It's like something I've worked so hard at to accomplish is being ruined if I leave her, especially if it's because Marcel told me to. I can't fucking stand being so powerless, but I don't get why it makes me lose strength in the first place.

We go inside the cafeteria earlier than the rest of the students and get in the short queue. I'm glad I don't have to wait so damn long to eat like I usually do. And if I get here soon enough, Marcel might not sit by himself either and that could be an improvement.

We grab our food and I think he's too distracted with our conversation to realise that I got him to sit down at my regular table. He isn't going to notice until the rest of my friends come by, but I don't want him to be so intimidated by them anymore. I won't let them say shit about him, especially if he was right in front of us all. They all know we're friends, so it shouldn't be a surprise.

Emma sits down first, awkwardly trying to talk with me. Marcel already starts to get quieter and more careful with what he says. When he sees everyone else walking trough the doors, I might notice his state of panic from a mile away.

"Who's this?" Sam starts when he sits down, not even realising it's Marcel until he gets a good look. "Oh."

Marcel's face is red and he can't make eye contact with anything but the tray in front of him. His breathing deepens and I can see his fists clench, knuckles white. I feel like shit for making him stay here and he when looks at me, and I already see the excuse coming.

"I have to go talk to someone." He says, standing up.

"Can't you do it later?" I wonder and he shakes his head, his eyes flickering to the sets if everyone else's staring at him.

"It's - It's kind of important." He insists. His voice is low and completely timid. "Bye."

"Oh-" I say and he seems like he wants to run. "Okay. Bye."

He looks around at everyone before looking at me again.

"Bye."

He walks away without taking his food.

I sigh and turn around.

I would have tried harder at making the difficult little shit stay here if I didn't feel so bad. He was about to have a goddamn panic attack if I made him stay.

"What the hell was he doing here?" Sam asks and I hold in my groan.

"Why the hell does it matter? He can do whatever he wants." I tell him. I don't get why he feels the need to be such a douchebag all the time.

"So you guys are actually friends? Like friends friends?" Emma wonders and I glower at her.

For a split second I think of saying no, just to get them off my backs, but that never works out in the long run and I don't care what they know anymore.

"Sure, I guess." I say. "Whatever the hell that means."

"What the fuck, really?" Trent grins at me. "You actually like spending time with him?"

They all laugh and my jaw clenches. They don't even care to know him before they start being dicks about this all.

"Fuck off, he's not even that bad." I defend. I kind of wish Marcel was here to see that I'm not taking their side about everything, but they're fucking annoying and I'm going to snap any minute if they keep going on like this, which they will.

"You used to hate his guts." Sam reminds me.

"Well he's actually alright. Give him a chance."

I try to stay calm, but the last thing they're going to do is make it easy.

"Is this why you didn't come over last night?" Amanda teases. She's pissed at me, so she's going to add onto the fire no matter what. Even if I didn't do shit last night, she always finds a reason to get mad and get back at me.

But I hate that she's right. I hate that I blew her off to hang out with him, even if I tell myself it wasn't just him I blew her off for, it was because we're friends. I probably would have done it if Sam was around too.

No, because you'd like Sam to know that you can have her and he can't. Even if you don't want her, she's still yours.

"Do you fancy him?" Amanda wonders and I repeatedly picture slamming their heads against the table so they stop.

"Shut the fuck up, we just talk sometimes."

"Yeah, okay. Are you sure you're not dating?" Trent asks and I hit the back of his head. It's hard, but not enough to get me in trouble or bring me any sort of satisfaction.

"Fuck off, no." I deny.

"Are you going to leave me?" Amanda teases and I don't know why they decide to be like this all of a sudden. They'd bug me about it before, but it's like they saved up all this bullshit for today so they could pile it up on me and see how mad they could get me. It's working, but I don't want it to.

"Don't be so fucking disgusting." I sneer.

"So you find us more disgusting than him?" Sam winks and my words feel heavy and taste bitter on my tongue.

"Fuck, we're not even friends." I snap and they all look at me in surprise, most of them still grinning. They wanted me mad so they got me mad. I just need them to shut the fuck up sometimes.

I stand up and take my food with me. Marcel sits far enough away that they won't see me walking over to him, but I need a breath before I explode.

"You're all being fucking stupid. We just talk. We're not even friends."

I can't stand lying like this, but it sure as hell got them to stop talking.

I felt something bump against me when someone walks by, and I'm about to lose my shit on them too when I turn around.

My mouth is open and I'm ready to bitch at them, but all I see is Marcel walking away with his back to me.

"For fuck sakes." I groan and see everyone smirking at me. They won but I don't know what the fucking prize is. "You're all fucking sick. So what if we're friends? Why the fuck should you care? Does it make your lives miserable to know that I don't mind spending time with someone that isn't you?"

They don't reply and I don't expect them to.

"I'm going to go fix your fucking mess, but you sure as hell shouldn't expect me to be okay about this shit later."

I follow Marcel and try to think of what I'm going to say, but I've fucked up enough to run out of excuses for myself. I'm done trying to lie my way into shit.

"Stop for a second." I say, putting my hand on his shoulder and hold him back. We're away from everyone eating so no one will be able to hear, but if we start yelling anytime soon, I know it'll bring us more attention we didn't need. I take him out of the room so I can explain without any interruptions. Again.

"I don't care." He says without looking at me.

My mind goes blank of all the shit I was going to say, because that was the last thing I expected him to say.

"What?" I ask, but he only stares at his hands.

It makes me feel more shitty than I did two minutes ago.

"It doesn't matter... You were just trying to get them off your back, right?" He's doubtful of me, and I don't blame him. He looks insecure and embarrassed and I wish he would yell at me more than think that was okay.

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have said that. It was fucked up." I tell him. "We're friends and I shouldn't care if they know that or care what they say about it and you sure as hell shouldn't say it's fine for me to do that."

He sighs and still can't look at me.

"I'm tired of fighting with you about stuff like this."

He's so calm it actually terrifies and confuses the shit out of me.

"I don't even know what to say about it, so it doesn't matter. I don't care."

I don't know if he's going to cry or if my being here will get him to snap, but I still don't know what to say to him about it all.

He's mad but he just isn't saying anything about it. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that?

"Look, you obviously care and I don't want you to just brush it off if its going to keep bugging you."

I do want to brush it off, but that would probably make it worse

"It's not. I'll be fine." He gives me a weak smile and I know I shouldn't let him go like this because it'll only bring more problems whenever the hell I fuck up again.

"Don't be like this..." I groan, but he just shrugs.

"Be like what?"

"Like it doesn't matter that I'm such a prick." I tell him. "It's obviously a big deal."

He let's out a small laugh.

"The only one who's making a big deal out of it is you," he reminds me with a more genuine smile. "If you know it was wrong then I don't care."

"Are you sure?" I check, because I want to let this go only if he isn't going to be all weird about it.

"Yeah." He flashes me a brief smile and I know isn't fine. "I'll see you later?"

"Sure." I agree, relieved that I'm not taking this any farther.

He still looks sad when he walks away.

I go back into the cafeteria, but plan on avoiding the rest of my friends because I don't think I can deal with any of them without snapping.

Every bit of relief I have is crushed when Amanda angrily walks up to me, practically stomping the whole way. The look on her face alone gets me hearing all the things she's going to say.

"We need to talk." She begins and I sigh.

"Can we do this later? I'm not in the mood." I mumble, and the area around my temples throb with her being here right now. I don't know how much longer I can handle this.

"Not in the mood?" She hisses, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't give a damn. Why the hell do you think it's okay to treat me like that?"

I look around at the people who can hear us, and I'm not ready to be alone with her but it's better than making an embarrassment out of ourselves in front of everyone.

I take her out of the room like I just did with Marcel, but this time I know for sure that the yelling is creeping it's way into this conversation.

"You literally told me to shut the fuck up in front of everyone." She says, looking up at me in a way that reminds me of how my mother looks at me when she's angry.

"Well I was pissed at you guys. You shouldn't have been saying all that shit either." I fire back, but she looks shocked by my words.

"I wasn't being rude to you, Louis. We were joking around and you took it way too seriously. You crossed the line."

"Because I told you to shut up?" I say loudly, completely amazed that she's being like this over something so fucking small.

"It wasn't just that, Louis." She continues, and I stand there waiting for her to bring up "that one time three months ago."

"Okay, what else have I done?" I ask.

"You said I was being disgusting and you've been weird lately and whenever we're together you're not like you used to be and I don't like it." She starts, and I know this is only the beginning of all the other things.

"Well we've been together for a long goddamn time and people are going to change. And what you said was disgusting, so don't jump to so many conclusions all the time." I argue, refusing to let her be right about anything.

"Well you've been spending so much time with your friends and with _Marcel_ of all people that you don't even want to be around me anymore! You get meaner when you're with me and especially when were together around them." She points out and I'm already rolling my eyes. "Why?"

"Why the hell do you care if I hang out with my friends so much? You're always with your friends too and I don't say shit about it." I snap, but she doesn't flinch.

"That's because you don't care. You're always off with your friends so I hang out with mine."

"Then what's the big fucking problem?" I yell, pulling at my hair.

"You're always with other people! We never spend time together anymore and whenever we do, we're always with other people or having sex or doing pointless stuff!" She says, her face starting to turn red.

"Well that's because you always say you don't care what we do! Every time I fucking ask what you want to do, you say whatever I want to do!" I remind her for the hundredth time. "If you want to do something different, just fucking speak up. I won't give a shit."

She scoffs and folds her arms across her chest.

"You never give a shit." She goes on and my eyes widen as I look at her.

"Here we go again..." I laugh condescendingly, shoving my hands in my pockets as she gets ready to tell her story.

"Ever since we've been together, the relationship has been one sided. Whenever things get bad between us, you never try to make it better or do anything that we could benefit from. You always end up going off with your friends again and not caring about me. You always want to be around them and you never want to talk with me or be there for me because of it." She says, and when I hear her voice catch, I'm about to leave. I'm not going to stand here while she cries to me about what she doesn't like about me. "You've never made me feel good enough."

The words don't feel as bad as they probably should.

"We've been together for so long, Amanda. You've obviously been good enough if we're still together." I speak through gritted teeth and she does everything she can to keep back her tears.

"Then why the hell did you cheat on me?" She asks and I should have waited for this to come up.

"Don't even start this shit again." I stop her, shaking my head. "I've told you so many fucking times that I was piss drunk and Peyton just kissed me. That shouldn't even count as cheating."

So Peyton and I did fuck, but it was only once and we really were drunk as hell and I barely remember it but I know I felt sick the whole time.

She doesn't remember so that made it easier to lie.

"You were with another girl while we were together! That's exactly what cheating is!" She yells, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't know how you still think that it isn't!"

"Why are we even talking about this again?" I ask loudly. "Every fucking time we fight you have to bring that up along with every other thing I've done!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't have done so much then!"

"Well people fuck up sometimes, and that doesn't mean you always have to remind them!" I tell her. "I know what I did and it obviously doesn't do any good whenever you bring it up!"

"You fuck up too much, Louis! I can't stand being with you when you do all this stuff to me!"

I'm about to bring up all the shit she's done too, but stop myself because we'd be standing here all day saying what we've both done wrong because half the shit we probably haven't even told each other.

"Then why are you still with me?" I ask, hoping she'll finally do what we've both been wanting for a while.

"I don't know!" She yells. "You know what? It's over. You can fuck whoever you want and be with your friends and love Marcel as much as you want, but I'm not sticking around to cheer you on."

"I don't give a shit!" I laugh again, and tears are rolling down her cheeks. I really don't care, though. I'm more relieved than anything. "I've been wanting to break up with you for a while and you've probably been bitching about me with Emma or whoever for a long fucking time so I'm glad it's finally done."

Her eyes are still watery and her nose is red, but I don't feel any sympathy. We've broken up like this before and gotten back together, but I always enjoyed every day without her.

"Bye. I'm so done with this." She says, walking away.

Despite all the shitty things she said and how much shit she brought up and how shitty this day has been and how I've been, it's nice to know that I can do whatever the fuck I want with whoever I want whenever I please. She doesn't get a goddamn say.

I can finally breathe, even if it feels wrong that the first person I want to go to after this is Marcel.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It will never be too late to say sorry.

Songs for this chapter:

[My Heart Is Open - Maroon 5](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_kvy7s4-ng)

[How Will I Know - Sam Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwHACITShSI)

 

Louis' POV

He's pissed. He hasn't said shit but even after a few days, he avoids me and doesn't want to talk and ends up being more quiet than usual and I can't stand it. I brought up what I said multiple goddamn times, but he keeps brushing it off like it doesn't matter. He's stubborn about it and it ends up getting me angry because it reminds of the way Amanda was and there's a reason we aren't together anymore. I didn't think Marcel would be like her and even if I'm mad about it, I fucking miss him. He's the only friend I have that doesn't say shit to me and after everything that happened this week, I think he's my only friend in general. _Was_ my only friend.

I don't get why I have to fuck up so much and I wish I have a better excuse. I don't blame him for being mad, though. If our roles were switched, I wouldn't have put up with my shit for half as long as he did. I'm nowhere near that patient.

Seeing him in class is awkward as fuck and he doesn't even try making eye contact with me unless he has to. He's mad, but whenever we get the chance to talk he acts like nothing happened and it confuses the shit out of me. I thought I'd give him space to cool down, but it's been a few days and I think he's always been cooled down, he just hasn't done anything about it.

"I really am sorry," is the first thing I say when we sit down together.

"Louis, I said I don't care," he sighs, but its lethargic and tired of being repeated. I don't know if he's really said anything other than that to me the past few days.

"You care and you're mad at me and you don't want to talk about it but you want to be friends without being friends and this is confusing as fuck so I'm not going to stop bugging you until you forgive me or we start yelling at each other."

I can his anger radiate off his body. It makes me nervous, but I don't want to be shitty to each other anymore. I can be an asshole for the rest of my life.

"Well as far as I'm concerned, you've used your last chance. I told you I'm done with all of this."

"Then why the hell didn't you say that when I pissed you off?" I ask and he shrugs, keeping his eyes forward.

"I'm sick and tired of fighting with you about the same thing. It's useless." He tells me, biting on the inside of his cheek.

"Then why were you acting like we were still friends?" I wonder. "And why the hell did you tell me that what I said was okay?"

"Because I didn't know what else to tell you, Louis. You knew that it was wrong and should have known that I was going to be angry about it. I always am when it comes to that stuff, but you still went ahead and did it." He speaks quietly so no one can hear, but I still feel like it's loud enough that everyone knows whats going on. I wish he'd be more quiet. "I don't know if I forgive you, but I'm not going to get into this huge argument because I honestly don't think this is as bad as other stuff that's happened."

I know I've done worse, but now that we're friends I shouldn't be involved with what I used to do. It's wrong and stupid and immature and I told myself I was done with all of it.

"Just because it isn't as bad, doesn't make it bad." I say, tracing my fingers on my desk.

"Do you want me to get mad at you or something?" He let's out a frustrated breath and I crack a small smile, even if he isn't joking.

"I do." I say honestly. "I want you to get mad and I want you to be angry and then I want to forget about it all and be friends again."

He looks over at me and almost looks like he's considering it.

"How long are we going to do this?" He asks and I shrug, just as the teacher starts speaking to the class.

I lower my voice to a whisper, but he's still paying attention to our conversation because his eyes flicker over to me, waiting for any answer.

"Until you forgive me." I say, making his head turn in my direction again. He's despondent and more hurt than I thought he would be but I'm glad that he told me he's upset. I don't need him to pretend like that because it makes shit too confusing to deal with then I'll end up not dealing with it

Then, he turns his head towards the front of the room again and doesn't look at me for the rest of the class.

 

Marcel's POV

It's painful to see him next to me like this - looking the right way and saying all the right things but can't do anything but ask for forgiveness. It's all he's doing lately.

Not being friends with him sucks because I end up alone again and it feels like it used to be. Sam is still a prick to me and says shit to me in front of everyone when Louis isn't around, but I don't know if he would say anything to Sam if he was around.

I'm glad I didn't forgive him but didn't fight about it because I don't want to get mad over something that isn't really that big of a deal. I only heard the end of the conversation, but when I started walking over there, I could tell Louis was angry and embarrassed and that everyone else around him seemed to be laughing. Not with him, but at him. I felt bad until I heard what he said, then hated him again. When he talked to me I didn't even want to be around him, then I realised I might have been overreacting because I know for sure that he couldn't have meant it. Not after all the other stuff he's said before.

He can't stand the thought of having all those friends leave and make fun of him for being around someone like me, so he got mad at them and said a few things he didn't mean. I think I'm more hurt than angry that he didn't bother to stand up for me, but that still doesn't stop me from wanting to forget about it all and be friends with him and not care what he says or what everyone else says, but I suffocate in my own thoughts and live off what other people say. That doesn't just stop.

I see Louis walking towards me and I know he's going to ask more questions so I pretend I don't see him, turning in the opposite direction.

"Marcel!" He calls out and I hear his footsteps get louder and a familiar hand on my shoulder that doesn't pull me back from walking, only letting me know he's behind me and he isn't going to stop until he gets what he wants.

"So have you forgiven me yet?" He asks with a grin, walking with me as we maneuver around the crowd of people.

I try not to stare at his smile or his eyes or at him. It makes me want to say yes.

"I've forgiven you too much." I deny.

"So? There can never be enough forgiveness in the word. Just one more time." He insists and I can see the hopeful and excited and confident look he's got in the back of my mind.

"Just stop, Louis." I insist. I don't want him to keep forcing this, because I know I'll just let him win. I can't always fight like this.

"Why?" He chuckles. "Come on, give me another chance. I'm getting better at this whole not being a prick thing"

"Not really." I tell him and he smiles up at me. I have to force away my own happiness.

"Yeah, I know." He admits. "But I still should get another chance."

"Not for the same mistake." I say and he stops talking, a little surprised by my words.

"Last one?" He asks, looking up at me in desperation. His ocean eyes are full of hope, but lean towards the confident side. I don't want to look at the way his hair looks or how he's dressed and I wish he wasn't even in front of me so I couldn't get so god damn distracted.

I sigh and have to look away again

"Louis..." I trail off, not wanting to argue so much. I just want to forget about it without having to hate each other again.

"I heard once that holding grudges shortens your life by a few years." He tells me matter-of-factly.

I can't help but smile at the ridiculous statement and have to look at him again. He reminds me of the stars and the sun after it rains and looks too good to be good for me.

"Where the hell did you hear that?" I wonder and he shrugs.

"It sounded like it could be true in my head." He says, the bother of us still smiling. His lips are so pink and they curve around his words in a way that can make ugly sound beautiful. "Last chance. I swear to god, I won't be like that to you. I'm a nice guy deep down inside."

I laugh, shaking my head. He's convincing and I completely get how people adore the charm he carries around so well.

"Well how deep? My shovel is getting dull." I inform him, looking to the floor in attempt to cover my grin.

I know I'm being stupid for doing this and I hate that I'm smiling more than anything but he's too damn beautiful to even think straight. "You're confusing, you know."

He laughs again, looking like he agrees. One minute he's angry and mad at me and the rest of the world then the next he's happy as hell, walking around with smiles that set the sun aflame. I don't get it and it makes everything else confusing and I want to hate him for it, but I'm still here laughing along with reddened cheeks like a girl with the biggest crush on him.

"And you're stubborn. We make a good team." He says and I laugh again. "See? We're okay."

I stop walking and turn towards him. If I can't ever look at him, he isn't going to take me seriously and I'm never going to be able to negotiate anything without giving in to whatever he wants.

"Louis, were not going to be okay if you keep doing and saying that stuff around your friends." I speak and he nods in agreement.

"Then I won't," He simply states and my eyes flicker around to the people trying to move around us without bumping into our shoulders.

"You said that last time," I remind him. I'm surprise with how calm I've handled most of this. Usually, we'd have yelled at each other at least once every time we talk.

"But this is this time and everyone deserves second chances, don't they?" He asks, pulling his bottom lip between his ivory teeth.

"This is like, your seventh chance Louis," I say, wishing I didn't feel as happy as I do right now. I want to be mad more than I am, and I still smile like everything is okay because I'm just glad to have him around again. I missed him and I don't like being alone.

"So it is a chance?"

I hesitate too long and that only causes him to smile bigger.

"That's close to a yes so I'll take it as one." He says cheerfully.

_No_.

"That was not a yes," I tell him and he groans.

"So it was a no?"

"Well no-"

"Well then it has to be a yes," He interrupts, still smirking devilishly.

_No, no, no_.

"Fine," I answer, contradicting the thoughts I was going to follow through with. I let out a deep breath, feeling lighter despite all my thoughts that scream at me to change my mind. I'll convince myself later that this was for the better because I can't be alone all the time. I'm happier now with him around, even if he happens to be a douchebag sometimes. "Don't be rude."

He smiles and we start walking again.

"I won't. I promise," He says. "Let's eat. I'm making you sit with my horrible friends whether you like it or not."

I'm already panicked with the thought and shake my head.

"Absolutely not," I disagree. "I've barely forgiven you for what you did so I don't think I can be around them."

He rolls his eyes and makes me keep walking with him.

"I'll beat the shit out of them if they say anything about you, I swear to God." He says and my eyes widen.

"Even Amanda? I'm sure she'd love that." I tease. I can only picture them getting into a fight about it then her coming back to apologize and get Louis to be with her again.

"Oh yeah," He begins. "Amanda and I aren't dating anymore."

"What? Really?" I ask and he grins.

"Yeah," he says. "When everything happened the other day I told her to shut the fuck up about it and she wasn't happy with me and brought up stuff from, like, months ago then started crying so I broke up with her."

I'm relieved not because he isn't in a relationship, but because he doesn't have to be with someone who obviously makes him miserable. I'm glad he finally has some freedom to do the things he wants for a change.

"Well it's about time," I say, patting his back. "It was obvious you need a lot of time away from each other."

He nods in agreement.

"You have no idea," he sighs. "But honestly, they're all annoying as fuck and I've already had enough of their bullshit the past few days."

"Then why are we sitting with them?" I wonder and he laughs.

"Because they're still my friends, even if they're shitty sometimes. They won't say anything to you and they sure as hell won't say anything to me."

"But-"

"No complaining," he interjects, already pushing me into the cafeteria with him. It's quickly starting to crowd with people and it makes me more nervous than I already am. I look around to Louis' table and see Amanda and Emma sitting together and talking with Ian and dread going over there already.

Being with Louis doesn't make it seem so bad, but I just don't want to be around again if he snaps and says something. I'm always going to have my doubts about him until he proves me wrong, so I won't be ready for things like this any time soon.

"Do we have to?" I ask as we make our way over with our food.

"Yes," he tells me firmly. "It'll be fine."

I hold in a groan when we get closer and the minute we come into everyone's view, they all stop their conversations and look at us. I know everyone around can see too and I don't like anything about it.

I still sit down so I'm not the only one standing, debating whether or not to run.

"So everyone, I'm very sure you all know this is Marcel." He says, holding his best fake-smile as well as he can. "We're friends so he's going to sit with us."

I see everyone looking between the two of us then amongst themselves, making subtle faces at the strangeness of this.

I haven't felt more out of place in a while.

The conversations slowly build up again and everyone is talking about something different. Whenever Louis speaks, he tries to keep me involved but I can tell that everyone would prefer it if I wasn't here. Hell, I would prefer it if I wasn't here.

I notice the tension between Amanda and her friends and Louis and the way they all look over at him disapprovingly, trying to support the friend that I don't doubt has exaggerated the truth of things.

Sitting with them all should be comforting, but I notice that they all have their people that they are more comfortable with and who talks and laughs more and who listens more but somehow they all relate. They all fit in together but me because Louis seems to be the only one interested in what I have to say. Occasionally Ian will ask me something and I think he's grown on me compared to everyone else.

He still seems like a dick, but only when certain people are around.

I can breathe properly again when everyone starts to get up, throwing away their rubbish and heading out to get their stuff for class.

Louis stays with me when we walk out and I'm thankful that I don't have to be alone so much anymore. I'm sure he'd rather stay too, instead of be alone with Sam while he talks non-stop about me and why the hell Louis would think of inviting me.

"That wasn't so bad," Louis comments once we make it a safe distance between everyone else.

"It was terrible," I contradict and he laughs. He has to know it was true. Everyone seemed weird around me and I don't even know them.

"It wasn't as bad as you thought though, right?" He asks and I shrug.

"I guess not," I admit honestly. I was prepared for the worst-case scenarios, so it was better than I expected. "They didn't call me a fag in front of everyone so I guess it was alright."

He seems content with my answer, but I should have lied a bit so he won't make me do it again. I'd rather sit by myself.

"Yeah, they were acting weird about it but I'm just glad they weren't like they usually are." He says. "They were actually nicer to you than they were to me a few days ago."

"Probably because I don't talk very much." I say and he nods.

"I don't doubt it," He agrees.

We walk to class like nothing happened and I don't feel so nervous while he talks and laughs around me. My decision doesn't seem to bad, especially when I can see his eyes brighten and his warm smile.

I hate that I gave in so easily like I have many times before, but I can talk to him more than I can talk to other people and I haven't had a person like him in my life. I never expected us to be friends like this, but I don't want to do anything to jeopardise the good place we're at.

I forget about it when I look at him, though. I don't like that he isn't ugly and has the utmost amount of persuasion in his smile, but it makes it that much easier to calm my rapid heart. He's breathtakingly difficult in every situation and I can't seem to be any more addicted than I am because even when I want to leave, I don't stop thinking of every beautiful part of his being.

He seems so realistically close to the idea I have of him that I'm infinitely terrified I've been feeding off my own lies.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis can't take his eyes off of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if anyone wants to follow me on tumblr i'm still illicitlylarry and i post updates for this fic there so follow if you want to i hope you enjoy the chapter and have a lovely day)

Songs for this chapter:

[Just a Little Bit of Your Heart - Ariana Grande](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0-50nRyuy8)

[Burn - Madi Diaz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8TCZ2Ni5M4)

 

Louis' POV

It's the last day of school before Christmas holidays and even though we have two weeks off, every teacher still reminds us of exams when we come back like they want us to be stressed the whole fucking time we're gone. But because we've been working so hard, the school thinks that we should get at least one day of "fun" before we leave to go study for two weeks or whatever the hell they think we're going to do.

Every year we have a Christmas festival throughout the last day, and the whole school wears ugly Christmas sweaters and eats distasteful pancakes for breakfast to support the graduating class and an auction for surprise gifts. The one thing everyone actually enjoys is the talent show. People sign up a few weeks before the festival so they have time to come up with some act to perform for the school. It's the one of the very few times we ever use the auditorium, but it's worth it. Some people actually try singing (without succeeding) and we have a drama class that always does something, along with the music class. Those first few people are boring as fuck to watch, waiting for the people who don't give a shit and do something they know they'll end up looking stupid doing. It's hilarious and everyone loves it, and at the end everyone votes on their favourite act for prizes.

The football team signed up like we usually do, and this year everyone thought our award-winning act would be the Christmas dance off _Mean Girls_. We saw some YouTube video of these guys doing it in their underwear and it got everyone laughing so the only ones throwing shirts at us would be the teachers for breaking the dress code.

We practiced a few times but didn't really give a shit because it would be better if some of us didn't even know what we were doing. It would be good, and I don't think any of us would pussy out from embarrassment.

I get to school a little late because everyone is eating pancakes and we only have to go to one of our classes for attendance so they know we actually showed up. It's a little pointless and attendance shouldn't be so mandatory today, but according to all the teachers fun is mandatory. I do not own an ugly Christmas sweater and never plan on it, so I'm at least glad we get the "privilege" of no-uniform day.

I'm not interested in eating the pancakes with lumps of baking soda, so I walk past the plates and trays of breakfast, only taking a glass of orange juice to sit down with.

I look around for anyone I want to sit with and there's too many people in similar green and red sweaters standing up and moving around to notice a difference, but it sure as hell isn't hard to spot the only person sitting by themselves with a book in their hands.

I walk to Marcel at his lonely table, and try not to look around for any of my other friends.

The thought of missing him when we were fighting is strange enough to freak me out. I've never missed a friend ever, not even Amanda. I'm sure I've told her that I did when in reality I only enjoyed the time away from her. Normally, if I wasn't talking to one of my friends it's usually over something stupid that gets the both of us too pissed off to even look at each other so there's never been any reason to miss someone. I've never had anyone like me then stop talking to me and I sure as hell have never begged them to forgive me for the stupid shit I've done.

I don't understand why I care for Marcel's friendship so much, but the fact that I do makes me not want to be friends with him in some twisted way. Of course I won't do anything so our friendship ends, but whenever he's around, I have to remind myself we're just friends as if something else had happened.

I set my cup down at his table and he looks up from his book, only noticing I was here when I'm actually sitting. He takes a napkin and puts it between the pages he's on, closing it gently.

I notice his plate of a one-and-three-quarter pancake, and how he's got another crumpled napkin on top of it.

"The pancakes are shit every year. I don't know how they don't get the hint." I tell him and he laughs, nodding.

"I gagged on a chunk of baking soda and all the bins are filled with uneaten food." He says, wrinkling his nose. "I feel bad that it's all going to waste."

"No one wants to eat that shit, it's probably for the better." I laugh, taking a drink out of my cup. "At least the other stuff is decent and the grads are getting a bunch of money from it all."

"I'm sure we've got a ton of money already and we're not even halfway through the year." He says with a smile.

"We pay this school so much we shouldn't have to do anything." I chuckle and he nods in agreement, then grows quiet.

When I look at him he looks away and his fingers play with the corner of his book cover so I try to come up with some sort of conversation so shit isn't so weird.

"What book are you reading?" I wonder, having an ironic idea that talking about books will make us end up talking about something that doesn't involve books.

He grins and looks at me, biting down on his bottom lip. His cheeks are still rouge and he's making me smile before he even opens his mouth.

"Do you really care what I'm reading?" He asks and I shake my head and laugh. I don't think there's ever a time I will willingly want to talk about books.

"No," I admit, smirking at him. "You're just being all quiet again."

"I'm always quiet," he reminds me, which is something I have quickly come to learn.

"Yeah, but you're like, extra quiet," I point out, leaning forward as a thought comes to mind. He's smiling and laughing and joking with me, but if he's quiet he might be pretending he isn't angry with me. "Are you still-"

"Is there any way I can back out of this dancing shit?" Ian's voice interrupts mine unapologetically, and a groan follows his question when he sits down and places his bag on the table.

"Don't be a pussy," I tell him with a grin, turning away from Marcel to look at him. "It'll be hilarious."

"I don't dance," he complains, handing the bag to me. "Especially in shit like this."

I grin and open the bag, pulling out our red boxers. They've got white fuzzy pompoms on each arse cheek and I don't know how the hell we're allowed to do this.

"Those are your outfits?" Marcel asks and I nod with a smirk.

"Jealous?" I joke and he shakes his head with a laugh, moving his curly hair out of his eyes.

"Hell no," he states firmly, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, you can keep that pair," Ian sighs, probably acting more upset than he actually is. "I have to hand out the rest before this afternoon."

"And you're actually going to show up, right?" I confirm and he laughs, looking over at Marcel.

"How would you like to fill in for me?" He asks and I throw the bag back at him before Marcel can answer.

"No," I deny. "You're doing it."

"But-"

"No fucking excuses," I laugh. "Then everyone else would be doing it but you."

"I don't mind," he says, just as I see more people walking up to us.

"These are it?" Trent asks as he sits down with Sam and Adam. They all grab a pair from the bag and I move closer to Marcel so all of us fit at the small table.

He looks squished and uncomfortable when more chairs are pulled up and more people sit down, laughing over what we were wearing and what we were going to do. He doesn't know what to say when they start up conversations, so I try to talk to him. I don't like it when he gets quiet and nervous. It makes me feel bad.

"Did you sign up for any acting today?" I wonder and he blushes, shaking his head. He doesn't look right at me, his eyes flickering around to everyone else and everything else in the room.

"I'd throw up if I had to stand in front of that many people." He says, smiling widely.

"So you don't have any hidden talents?" I laugh. "You don't have this secret life goal of becoming an oscar-winning actor?"

He wrinkles his nose, shaking his head again.

"I don't act," he tells me. I could honestly never see him being bold enough to act something out, even if it was small. He's always shy enough around the rest of my friends.

"I bet you can sing," I comment and he looks at me like I'm insane.

"God, no." He denies, shaking his head. "I'm sure everyone's ears would bleed."

"It can't be that bad."

"It's that bad," He insists and I laugh.

"So no life goals of becoming some famous person?" I ask and he shakes his head with a shrug.

"I guess not." He tells me.

"That sounds like a shitty life." I state and he pretends to look offended.

"How?"

"Everyone wants to be famous in some way. Even teachers here who are shitty at their job want to end up being recognised for something." I say and he shrugs.

"Well I'm not teaching either-"

"Tommo, stop flirting and come with us." I almost want to pretend I don't hear him, but I stop talking and look towards Trent, ignoring part of his comment.

"Where?" I wonder as he stands up with Sam.

I see Amanda making her way over with Emma and I don't even care where we're going. I can't be around her without getting bitchy stares from her and all her friends. She's being fucking stupid and immature about it and I've put up with her bullshit long enough to know that I don't want to be around it anymore.

"To get food," he tells me and I stand up, placing my hand on Marcel's shoulder even though he already grabbed the shitty pancakes. I need an excuse to leave, but I don't want to make him stay with people he isn't comfortable with.

"Come," I say and he looks up at me, eyes flickering to Sam and Trent. I don't bother looking. I've seen the look on their faces so many times already, especially when it comes to Marcel.

"I already ate," he says and I look down to his two pancakes and the one with a single bite in it.

"That doesn't count as eating." I laugh. "We'll get something better."

He looks at Sam and Trent again, then hesitantly stands up with me.

I know everyone else is going to start talking about Amanda and I but the whole reason I'm leaving with them is to get away from other bullshit, so I don't care what they say unless they say it in front of me.

We walk to where some teachers are serving the breakfast and I already notice Sam and Trent separating themselves from us. There is a space between our pairs and I can feel it growing bigger even if we don't move.

"I'm sure this school has enough money to make decent fucking breakfast." Sam says, mostly talking to Trent. "The pancakes are so shitty."

"Well this is your last year and you're the one who wanted food." Trent tells him, and they both grab plates, skipping past the pancakes.

I look over to Marcel again and he's still silent, looking around at the walls. He's not used to talking to people but I grin and have the overwhelming need to make him start.

"Marcel, I think you need to be a little more quiet. You're too loud." I tease and he blushes, smiling at me.

"Sorry. You know how obnoxious I get." He replies and I laugh, rolling my eyes.

I take a step closer to him to reach for a cup and I don't notice how close I am until I look up again.

He's still blushing from what I said and he doesn't really see me for a few seconds even though my eyes are fixed on his face. He looks like he rolled out of bed late and came to school, changing his clothes as quickly as he could. His hair is disheveled, sweeping across his forehead in curly waves that probably need fingers run through them. His lips are rotund and more inflated than they usually are, a crimson colour smoothing over the surface. It frustrates me that I can't look away even though I don't want to. I keep staring at his mouth and he finally notices and his cheeks grow ruddy, a deeper colour than they were before.

I'm still looking at his lips and now I'm thinking of kissing him, wrapping my thinner lips around his just to feel the way they enclose around me. The thought makes my stomach clench and twist and it's enough to let me look away, but I still can't shake the unwanted disappointment that floods through me because it didn't happen.

Even having him beside me now is making me angry and I take a step back.

"What was that?" Marcel asks with a laugh and I shake my head, wishing I fucking knew.

"I was probably about to fall asleep or something." I tell him with a smile.

This is fucking stupid. This shit wasn't happening to me before. I want to stop thinking about it but it keeps coming back and I need to rip my fucking brain out to stop the thoughts from happening.

"I barely got to sleep last night." I say, not making any eye contact with him. I don't need that shit happening again. I don't like to fucking kiss guys, especially not him.

"Oh," He replies and I stare down at the table even though I don't want anything that's on it.

We don't talk after that.

I don't want to feel all of it. It's too different to put into words but I know I shouldn't be thinking of that shit in the first place. If this keeps happening and the dreams keep going and Sam keeps talking I'll drive myself mad trying to change it back to the way it was.

We go back, adding onto the smaller part of our group and as soon as I'm in Amanda's peripheral vision, I can feel her glare. I barely notice it because Marcel is burned in every damn part of my mind and for once I wish it was her. Or anyone that isn't a guy.

I sit down and know she keeps looking to me then talking to her friends, whispering about how she can't believe I'm acting like I'm fine and nothing happened.

"I'll be right back," Marcel says quietly and I nod as he leaves to probably use the toilets or something.

I don't look at him when he walks away.

My palms have a layer of sweat I have to keep wiping on my trousers and my heart is racing uncomfortably.

"Why the hell do you keep inviting him everywhere?" Sam asks me, keeping his voice low as Marcel leaves.

His words add onto my anger and I have to dig my fingernails into the heel of my palm.

"Don't make such a big deal about it. You invite me and the rest of your friends everywhere." I reply, giving him a hard look. "I already told you he's friends with me, you shouldn't make a big deal out of it every time we talk."

"Well he follows you like a damn dog." He tells me. He's too easy to piss off, it's just not as amusing today. "It's annoying."

"He obviously isn't following me if I ask him to come." I defend, trying to keep my voice down so everyone else won't get involved. They all have their opinion on him and I'm the only one how doesn't think the same way. They just need to stop being so fucking immature about it.

"Well you don't have to bring him everywhere."' He continues. "We're not friends with him."

"But you can at least tolerate him." I say, trying to get the words out before he gets back. If he hears anything, he'll make an excuse to leave even if I was defending him. He doesn't want to be around them when they're being shitty to him. "I don't even get how he's doing anything wrong. He's a fucking person, you should stop being so damn rude."

"I swear you're fucking in love with him or something." He snaps, his jaw clenching when he looks at me. "Probably why you dumped Amanda."

Amanda hears her name and I can see her turning around in the corner of my eye.

"Fuck sakes." I groan, shaking my head.

"What?" Amanda asks and leans forward a bit. She's avoiding eye contact with me and only looks at Sam, waiting for an answer.

He looks at me with a grin and doesn't hesitate to reply.

"Louis left you because he's fucking Marcel." He says and she blushes, but laughs as she looks at me.

"I thought the same thing." She smirks and everyone laughs.

Marcel is walking back and I stand up, not caring what I was thinking about earlier.

"You're a piece of shit. Grow the fuck up."

When Marcel comes by, he's confused as hell but I still start walking away with him.

"Oh, come on." Sam laughs, seeming happier now that he's hoy everyone on his side. "Don't be such a pussy. I was joking."

I ignore the rest of whatever he's saying and hold onto Marcel's shoulder so he comes with me.

Same knows when he's pushing it too far and he seems to like doing it more than usual.

I'd rather be with Marcel than them anyway.

 

Marcel's POV

"So..." I begin as Louis sits down far away from where we were, his eyebrows furrowed together angrily. "What happened?"

He sighs and I clasp my hands together in my lap, giving him some space in case he's ready to snap at me too.

"It doesn't even matter." He brushes it off, looking at his hands. He's still pissed off and everything in his expression is showing it. "He's just being... _Him_ again."

I nod and don't know if he's going to go any further with that.

When he stays quiet, I get the hint, but I want him to look at me again.

I wish I never called him out on staring at me because I liked it so much. I can't stand people looking at me, but I would let him do it for hours if I could. It was calming and made me feel real, like everything was put on pause so we could stay like that. I think I would have kissed him if we were the only ones and if he wanted me to. It wouldn't have taken much. I can still feel the side of his body against mine and my skin tingling when his warm breath seeped through the fabric of my shirt.

While he sits beside me, I want to move closer just to feel him again, but I don't even feel safe sitting where I am.

He hasn't looked at me for more than two seconds since I asked him why he was staring at my mouth and now he barely wants to talk. He's acting different lately and it's making him distracted and too easily angered. I like spending time with him more when he's happy. He can joke around and smile more and not have to worry about what everyone else was thinking of him.

He starts to let go of what happened as the day goes on and we spend more time together. He doesn't talk to Sam, and Amanda looks amused every time they walk by each other, but I still don't want to ask about what happened. He gets more comfortable being around me and I don't want to ruin anything.

We're together the whole day and I notice people staring at us for less time compared to their usual gaping expressions. The only time I'm not with him is when he leaves to do his performance thing with his team.

The whole school piles into the auditorium while all the acts are backstage and I sit away from any of Louis' friends that we were around this morning. When I walk by Amanda, Emma, and Marcie, they all stare at me and Amanda smirks, but they don't say anything. I don't doubt they start talking when I'm gone.

The football team have the last act, and everyone starts cheering even though they haven't started. They all have the red shorts on and black jackets that I assume are going to be taken off pretty soon, nothing underneath to cover their bare chests.

My eyes settle on Louis and I don't think he can see me through everyone, but he holds a stereo and bring it to the front before going back to everyone.

I smile the while time and they look stupid and the teachers look shocked when the jackets come off and they're all half naked in front of everyone. I don't see a single student that isn't smiling. Watching Louis, seeing him grinning and laughing is enough to make me happy.

He finds me in the crowd of people and I see his smile brighten. I shake my head and try not to laugh so much, but I'm sure he enjoys that everyone is laughing. I feel like everyone notices him looking at me, even though he could be looking at anyone else. They're too focused on the group as a while anyway.

I think I look at him the whole time, even if he's only looked at me once. I hold onto his bright eyes and smiles and bursts of laughter so I don't have to think much of the crease that forms more on his left eyebrow when he frowns.

I look at his happiness and it overrules whenever he gets mad at someone, even when he gets mad at me and I know his friends are going to do something that gets him angry again, but it won't last forever.

I know I'm sitting in a crowd of girls Louis wants and some of them he's had, but I have more pieces of him than most others and I wonder if any of them envy me for it. Even if he doesn't want me in ways that I'd hoped and the bits of him I have don't include any love, they're more than I ever expected.

I try not to think too much of the firsts I imagined with him. It only lead to a mindset of empty hands and hollow chests and all I want is to keep smiling with lingering looks until I forget there's other people around.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis won't let himself feel.

Songs for this chapter:

[The Hills - The Weeknd](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzTuBuRdAyA)

 

Louis' POV

_I'm with him and everything is familiar. We stand on red bricks and that's the only burst of colour other than him. He looks down at me and smiles, ample lips curving up to heaven. Malachite eyes are enough to illuminate his image and I can feel his hands on me even if I can't see them._ _He looks like laughter and feels like the warmest summer days and I get closer to him, uncomfortable being so far apart. The dense proximity causes our chests to touch and I ache for so much more even if I don't know how to amount what 'more' might be. It's frustrating that I can't reach him like I need to and he's so close that I_ should _be able to have everything._

_His brilliant smile grows wider and his hands curve into the exact outline of my waist as he leans forward._

_We're kissing and the layer of red bricks beneath us gets thicker and bigger and he's against me in a way that makes all other things small and insignificant. His tongue moves along my teeth and around every crevice of my mouth available as I lace my fingers in his thick hair, and I can finally touch him and somehow bring him closer, every part of our bodies moulding together._ _My heart races uncontrollably but it's in the best way possible and he doesn't stop. It gets better as it continues and I'm so glad no one is around to end it. If they were, I'd sure as hell find another way to be alone with him again because this can't be the last time. It's too good to be the last bit of him I have._

There's a constant thrumming in my ears and I regret open my eyes as soon as they soak in the too-bright light splitting it's way though a crack in my curtains. I'm too comfortable to move and I don't need to get up for anything today, so I let myself slide into a mindless sleep. When my eyelids shut, images are projected behind the delicate layer and it takes half a second for me to jolt awake again.

_I fucking kissed him._

My eyes aren't heavy anymore and I don't think there's a way I could go back to sleep any time soon. I try to remember why and when it happened and where he is and where I am until I repeatedly have to look around the room in reassurance that I'm at my house alone and it was a dream.

_It's another fucking dream._

I'm not gay and it couldn't have happened. I don't like guys. If I did, I would have known a long fucking time ago and I wouldn't have been with the girls that I've been with. I would know. I'd have to like some guy or something to be gay but I never have so _I can't be gay_. It makes no fucking sense and the dreams are just bullshit.

All my other friends make being around Marcel confusing as fuck and I don't want that. I want to be friends without any weird shit going on because he's a good friend and if I start acting different then he'll start acting different and everything will be too fucking weird to even think about being near each other again. I like having him around and I don't want to lose that.

My heart still slams against my ribcage when I think about it and I can't go back to sleep in fear of bringing back the dream or having something similar happening again.

I get out of bed and make coffee to stay awake, still tired even when the caffeine starts to kick in. I'd rather have tea, but coffee wakes me up more and because I don't like the taste, I can stay awake and internally complain about it. My eyes are dry and sore and closing them doesn't stop the throbbing. I have a headache and I want to go back to sleep, and I _would_ if I could close my eyes without seeing green.

There's a loud vibration and my heart skips again when I feel it against my side. It goes again and I fumble trying to answer my phone, having to slide my finger across the screen twice.

"Hello?" I say, feeling much less tired than I did three seconds ago.

"It's Sam," He tells me and I wish I didn't have to deal with his shit right now.

"What do you want?" I ask and hear him laughing.

_Douchebag_.

"I was going to apologize," he replies and I run my thumb along the edge of my mug. He didn't have to ring me just to say he's sorry. It's probably going to be a shit apology anyway. He doesn't usually put much effort into things, but I don't really expect him to. "I've been a bigger dick than usual to you and I thought it was funny, but I know you're actually angry so I don't want you to go around hating me until we graduate."

That's the biggest apology than I've ever gotten from him, and nothing from the "I'm sorry, let's get pissed" I was expecting.

"You're serious?" I ask, waiting for him to burst out laughing and call me a fag or something before asking how good Marcel is at giving blowjobs.

"Yeah," he says. "We've been friends since we were kids. I shouldn't be like that just because your friends with someone I don't like. I thought you were just being sensitive or some shit but even Ian said I was being a dick so I'll lay off."

"Really?" I ask again. He's been saying shit about Marcel since before we became friends so I don't really see him stopping all together. Now, I'm waiting for him to need a favour.

"Yeah," he repeats. "I'm obviously not saying I'm going to be best fucking friends with him because he still annoys the shit out of me, but I just won't say stuff in front of you."

"Thanks?" I'm not really sure if _thank you_ is the right reply, but I don't usually get many apologies from Sam, especially about this kind of stuff.

"So we're good?"

"We're good." I agree.

He laughs and I hoist myself up on the counter, wedging my phone between my shoulder and ear while I drink my coffee and keep pushing away thoughts of arms and lips and quiet laughter.

"Thank fucking God," he speaks loudly and I laugh again. "I'm having a party tonight and you're coming. I don't give a shit where your parents are, because I plan on getting very wasted to celebrate two weeks of absolutely no school."

"So you're going to get me wasted too?" I wonder. Even if I didn't want to drink, I'd somehow end up stumbling my way into a taxi on the way home or slurring my words trying to ring for a ride. "I was planning on saving my liver for my birthday."

There was always parties for something going on, but the first time I got drunk for my birthday was when I turned fifteen. I was friends with these older guys that liked me enough to buy me alcohol and throw a party while my parents were gone. After that, I don't know a person who didn't like me.

"Everyone's going to get wasted," he insists. "The more intoxication the less you have to care about shit that doesn't matter. We're going to have a good time and I can tell you all the shit Amanda said about you when you ditched her."

I grin, wondering what the hell she might have made up. Last time we broke up, I dumped her and she said she left me because she didn't feel the same anymore.

She'll probably be drunk and start crying to me or something later on, but there's always ways to avoid her and a few drinks should be enough to forget that and everything to do with Marcel.

"I'll be there."

~*~

The music is loud and the people are louder and I'm one shot away from forgetting my name. I still can't forget him.

"One more," Sam's smile is huge and he pushes a small glass in my hand. The room spins whenever I look around, and my foggy vision should be enough to tell me to stop and maybe get a glass of water, but I can't control my thoughts.

_His tongue moves along my teeth and around every crevice of my mouth available as I lace my fingers in his thick hair._

"I'm fucked," I laugh, pushing my hair out of my face. I take the liquor and it slides down my throat roughly, but it's not as bad as the first one. My thoughts get more blurry and I think I'll drink until my thoughts aren't anything at all.

"Holy shit," Sam places a firm hand on my shoulder, shaking his head and stumbles trying to stand in one spot. "I'm going to be so fucking hungover tomorrow."

He drops his heavy arm around my shoulder and the uneven distribution of weight causes me to lose my balance, regaining it with more of a struggle.

I look around at everyone laughing and talking and dancing and still wonder if he's here even if no one invited him, including myself. I didn't want to cause more problems and he would have said no anyway. He doesn't like coming to parties.

"Maybe you should fuck her one more time." He points to Amanda jumping up and hugging one of her friends as she plays a game with them, a red plastic cup in her hand. I can hear her shrill from across the room and it makes my head pound harder than the beat of the music running through the floorboards.

"If I wanted to, I'd already have a bedroom upstairs." I say with a grin, though no part of the sentence is a lie. Since the first time we had sex, she's never had a problem saying yes.

"Why not one of her friends?" He suggests, his eyes sickly glued to their bodies.

"She's got her bitches on a goddamn leash and they'll do whatever she says." I tell him, grimacing at the thought of even being with one of them. I can barely stand being around them for five minutes. Emma is okay sometimes, but I still wouldn't choose to be with her. "Fucking around with me won't be something happening any time soon."

I sit down at a table, facing the opposite direction of drunk Amanda and her drunk friends.

_He looks like laughter and feels like the warmest summer days and I get closer to him, uncomfortable being so far apart. The dense proximity causes our chests to touch and I ache for so much more even if I don't know how to amount what 'more' might be. It's frustrating that I can't reach him like I need to and he's so close that I_ should _be able to have everything._

"I need another drink," I declare, and stand up to let the room tilts beneath me. Everything distorts and I laugh, gripping onto the tabletop as everything falls back into place.

"You've been drinking all damn night. Give it a break or you'll get sick and won't be fun anymore." He warns, but probably couldn't give a shit how much I drink tonight. It's been worse before.

"I'll be fine," I say, waving him off.

He doesn't follow me when I go for another, and I know I'm unstable as I try to walk straight.

I drink some more with people I know and some I've never met and there's a girl with green eyes that keeps smiling at me and even if she's got blonde hair, I can't look at her without thinking of him.

I can feel her looking at me and I wonder what would happen if I kissed her. I look at her once to stare at her lips and they have to be too thin to be comfortable. She smiles at me though, and even if intoxication is probably imprinted on her tongue, I wonder if it'll feel good kissing her. Just because I don't like kissing Amanda doesn't mean I don't like kissing girls.

"What's your name?" I ask her and she smiles again. Her teeth are white enough to make my eyes hurt so I keep looking at her eyes.

"Cassidy," she introduces, sticking her hand out. I place mine with it and it's cold and damp from whatever drink she's holding.

"Louis," I say, trying to speak loudly over the music. It still throbs inside me.

"Nice to meet you," Her voice comes out smoothly but I don't like it. She says her _S_ 's too sharply and her mouth looks funny wrapping itself around words.

"You too," I reply, my eyes flickering to the people around us before they settle back on her. I wonder if Amanda can see us. I hope she does.

I move closer to her even though I'd rather be farther apart and farther away from anyone in this house.

She keeps asking me questions about my life and it makes me want to be around her less and less.

"Are you a friend of Sam's?" She wonders, leaning on a table. Our sides are pressed together and my arm is behind her even though it doesn't touch her body.

"Yeah," I tell her, hoping there isn't too many locked bedrooms upstairs.

"Cool," She comments, then keeps talking right when I think she's going to stop. "I met him a few months at one of his parties. He's a pretty good friend."

I wonder how many times they've fucked.

"He's alright,"

_We stand on red bricks and that's the only burst of colour other than him. He looks down at me and smiles, ample lips curving up to heaven. Malachite eyes are enough to illuminate his image and I can feel his hands on me even if I can't see them._

"I like this song," she says, leaning closer to me. I've never heard it before, but I can feel the vibrations move up my legs from the floor. "Dance with me."

I laugh, immediately shaking my head. The lights change her hair colour to red and blue and green and I keep staring at it.

"I don't dance," I deny, but she takes my hand, trying to pull me towards the crowd of jumping and dancing bodies. Everyone looks sweaty and drunk out of their minds and I'd rather stay away. I've never danced in my entire life and I don't plan on starting now. Not for her, and not for anyone else.

"Come on," she insists, still pulling me even if I try to stay where I am. "It'll be fun."

We get closer and I can feel the heat radiate off of everyone and onto me. I still don't dance, but she puts her arms around me and moves her hips. Even if I just stand in front of her, I can put my hands on her waist and pull her closer so I can try to feel her against me.

Her blinding teeth flash at me while she smiles and I can't stare at them too long. Her eyes are still green though and I'm uneasy when the coloured lights make it look like they aren't.

I feel other people brush against me, but I ignore it to kiss her so I can ignore everything else.

Her lips are cold and whatever is on her lips doesn't taste good and the alcohol on her tongue reminds me of all the drinks I've had and why I had them in the first place. I don't stop though. I keep waiting for the senselessness to disappear, kissing her rougher and pulling her closer, but it seems to stay even longer than the thought of him.

Someone else starts touching me and they grip and pull at me hard enough to make my shoulder throb.

"What the fuck?" I yell at the guy who gets me away from her and feel like the floor is moving beneath my feet. I can't stand straight but the guy stands with his hand wrapped around Cassidy's wrist.

"Who the hell is this?" He asks her and she tries to pry herself out of his grip.

"Why do you even give a shit?" She fires back, freeing herself from him even if he keeps trying to grab him. He then turns to me and I put my hands up in defence, because I don't need to get into a fight over a girl I don't give a shit about.

"I just met her, mate," I tell him, but he still looks like he wants to hit me. If he does, I'd be stumbling to the ground. "I didn't know she had a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," she informs me, her gaze glowering.

"You two obviously have shit to figure out." I say, wanting to get away from both of them because the only reason I started talking to her was to get her in bed. That won't be happening while he's here.

I leave while they're busy yelling at each other because it reminds me of being with Amanda. It's nice to be away from the dancing people too. With all their sweaty bodies, I feel so hot that I need a breath outside, no matter how cold it might be.

The frigid air hits my skin as soon as the door opens and it tightens and tingle as the further I walk outside, shutting everything inside behind the door. The floor feels weird beneath my feet and I lean against the wall that's colder than the air.

People are talking around me and I wish they weren't there so I could breathe easier, but even if they weren't here it smells like cigarettes and pot so I cough if I breathe too deeply. I've only done pot a few times and I can't smoke or I wouldn't be able to run for football, so it's still heavy when it sets on the walls of my lungs.

This air makes me feel more than Cassidy and Amanda or anyone I've been with has. Even if it's cold and it smells, I'm not numb.

"Louis!" Someone squeals, the high-pitch penetrates my ears so uncomfortably that I flinch away.

Arms are thrown around me and I wet lips smack against my cheek.

"What..." I look over at Amanda and wipe my cheek, thinking I already got away from her.

"Emma saw you with that girl that cheats on her boyfriend all the time." She talks weird and she looks uglier than when I saw her last.

"So? She's hot," I say, hoping she goes away.

"But she's not even pretty," her arm is still around me but I take a step away from her. I don't want her next to me. "I still love you."

She stumbles when I take my arm off of her, frowning and trying to get close again.

"Why did you leave me?" She looks like she's going to cry and I regret deciding to be anywhere near her.

"Because it obviously wasn't working," I tell her, not caring how nice I am about it. "I don't like you like that anymore."

She pouts and tears well in her eyes as she hugs me again.

"Louis..." She says quietly. "I miss you."

"Oh," I reply shortly, but before I can even think of telling her I don't miss her, she's already kissing me. "Shit, Amanda," I put my hands on her hips to push her back. She keeps forcing herself on me and I force myself to enjoy some fucked up part of it.

"I'm prettier than her," she tells me, sounding like she's complaining. "You should like me more."

"I don't."

She pouts more and I roll my eyes. "You're lying," she insists. "You love me. You have to."

_You have to._

She keeps trying to kiss me.

"I don't want this," I say firmly, noticing all the people around and how many of them are starting to stare. I don't mind. She's just embarrassing herself.

"Come inside and talk. I'm cold," she says, pulling at my body.

"I'm not doing this again," I tell her.

"Please?" She asks, still grabbing at me.

I'm drunk out of my mind and I either want to forget the feeling she gives me or all the damn dreams I keep having. I don't know if not feeling at all is better than thinking about guys.

Thinking about him isn't that bad, but I know every damn person I talk to would hate me if I told them that. It's not like he's ugly, even if I've said many times that he is. The girls have said he'd be hot if he wasn't annoying. I still don't get how he's annoying either. He's nice. And funny when he decides to talk, even if that isn't very often.

_I hate myself_.

"Why?" I ask, even though she keeps pulling me back into the house. I think I stumble more than she does and my knees seem to be giving out more than I'd like.

She gets me back into the warm house and keeps tugging at me.

"My arm is going to fall right the fuck off if you keep up with this." I say, but she just laughs, done with her sad mood.

"Don't be so sour," she tells me, putting her hands on my neck.

My eyes look away from her and immediately lock on Sam and Trent. They're staring and laughing with each other and I roll my eyes. Trent starts to rub himself up on Sam and he's disgusted, but laughs when he pushes him away.

"Do you want to date again?" Amanda asks, forcing me to look at her again. Her eyes are a dull brown that are too familiar for my liking.

"No," I answer, not understanding when she giggles at my response.

"But we had so much fun when we weren't fighting." She goes on, bringing our bodies closer.

"We were always fighting." My response makes her laugh again, but I honestly can't remember a time I had fun with her.

"So what?" She grins madly. "It wasn't always, by the way. When we weren't fighting, we were having sex and that was pretty great."

I'd use very different words to describe it.

"I'm sure Sam doesn't mind if we use a bedroom..." She runs her hands down my arms and her eyes are wild with excitement.

I look over to Sam and Trent as if I was finding their approval and they're still grinning, pounding their fists against their palms.

It's disgusting, but I still laugh at them.

"I miss you," she repeats. "I know you miss me too and I really want you again."

I don't miss her and I don't want her and I think knowing I can have her whenever I want makes her less appealing.

She kisses my neck over and over before kissing my lips, saying please again. I tell her no once, then she says it again and I've barely said yes before she's pulling me upstairs and locking us in a bedroom.

Even though I don't want it, I'm still thinking of green eyes and soft lips so I fuck her and go numb.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis can't get out of his head.

Songs for this chapter:

[I Should Go - Levi Kris](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5moX0iBLi44)

[Gravity - Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIyFgygYW7s)

 

Louis' POV

I like girls. I always have and I always will and a few unconscious thoughts shouldn't get me doubting that shit. I always hear people saying that you have the find the one or something stupid to get the real feelings, so it's fucking ridiculous that I'm telling myself all this stuff because of a few dreams. I like girls and they're different than Marcel but that should be more than fine. They're supposed to be different just like Marcel is supposed to be different. The fact that Amanda makes me feel numb more often than not is just because I'm sick of her. We should have broken up ages ago and now I'm in too deep to know how to break up with her. We're only together because everyone likes us together. Spending time with Marcel is just nice because he isn't a complete prick like the rest of my friends and I feel so fucking weird about him because I'm not used to being around him so much.

Amanda keeps texting and calling me after we fucked and I think she's certain we're back together because of it, but I honestly can't remember anything. I know I woke up naked and alone with Sam yelling then laughing obnoxiously. I had the worst hangover and was asking about everything that happened because I blacked out so early. Sam made me get dressed first and told me Amanda left a few hours ago because I was passed out and wouldn't wake up. He told me she was happy when he last saw her and that he didn't believe I'd fuck her again, and I didn't think I would either. I'm angry that I did it and when I was leaving Sam's, I already had texts and a voicemail from her asking to hang out so we could talk.

It's been a few days and I'm still busy and hoping she gets the hint.

She keeps saying she's so happy about spending the holidays together too. She misses my family or some shit and wants to be there for Christmas and my birthday. I don't even want to invite her to the parties I'm having. Whenever she's around my family, she's sucking up to them and whenever she'a had too much to drink, I can't stand how moody and extra annoying she gets.

There are usually two parties every year. One on my actual birthday with all my family and some friends where we have to dress nicely and drink champagne. The other when my parents get busy with work and aren't coming home for a day or two so I get everyone I know to bring anything and anyone they want so we can all get wasted and forget to sing me happy birthday.

I want Marcel to be there for both of them. I'm done with second guessing it. He's just a friend and friends go to parties like that and just because I want him there doesn't mean I have feelings for him. I want all my friends there so he shouldn't be any different.

_*"Are you free to hangout right now?"*_

Just seeing Amanda's name on my phone stresses me right the fuck out. I couldn't have been more fucking stupid than when I decided to sleep with her again.

_*"Already made plans with Marcel. Maybe tomorrow."*_

She texts me back two seconds later and I don't bother looking at it. Even if I haven't made plans with anyone, I'm not doing shit with her. I'll text Marcel and make sure he stays the whole damn day so Amanda won't have the slightest chance of catching me at a free time.

I look through my contacts, going down to _M_ as I try to find his name, then go to _S_ when I don't see it there. I don't know how we could have been talking so long and don't have each other's number, but I find the next convenient thing and use Facebook. I'm not even friends with him there either, and even if I never use the damn app I add him anyway and open up my messages to talk to him.

 _*"I don't have your number."*_ I say, noticing how many unopened messages I have from other people. I delete them while waiting for him to reply, which takes too long. When I get the notification, I wait another minute to answer so it doesn't seem like I'm waiting around for him when that's exactly what I'm doing.

 _*"I know."*_  He replies with and I grin to myself, shaking my head.

 _*"I need it to talk to you."*_ I say and stare down at my phone as I wait for him to finish typing.

_*"I don't think my phone number is necessary for you to talk."*_

I roll my eyes even if he can't see me.

 _*"Don't be a dick, you know what I mean."*_ I answer and picture him smiling.

A number appears on the screen and I add it to my contacts before texting him.

 _*"Let's hang out today."*_ I tell him, not waiting long for his reply.

_*"Who's this?"*_

I don't want to smile as big as I am.

 _*"You're a dick."*_ I send, laughing to myself. _*"You can come to my house whenever. I'm not doing anything."*_

 _*"I don't usually go into strangers houses."*_ He says back and I laugh more. _*"But I guess I don't mind meeting new people. I'll leave in a few minutes."*_

I put my phone away with a smile still on my face. It's stupid when I read the messages again, looking at mine too much when I begin to panic after seeing how flirty it sounds. My other messages to the rest of the people I know and they seem different. They weren't so fucking flirty. The way I read them are monotonous compared to reading Marcel's, so I put my phone away for only a minute before taking them out a rereading them all over again.

I don't talk like that with my other friends and I shouldn't be talking like that to Marcel. I'm not even friendly like that with Amanda, even when we were dating.

I'm not gay. I've never liked guys before so I can't just decide to start now. It makes no fucking sense. Marcel is different than my other friends and I just like that he's more nice to me than everyone else. He isn't so goddamn judgemental like everyone else. Even if I was gay and I liked Marcel, everyone would hate my fucking existence. My dad wouldn't even look at me and my friends would call me a fag every day and avoid me like I'm a plague. Hell, I would hate myself if I was. It's fucking disgusting and just wrong to like someone like that. I'm a guy a I'm supposed to be with a girl, so I will be. I don't need to give people a reason to hate me, especially the people I don't mind having in my life.

Marcel doesn't take too long to get here, and politely rings the doorbell even though I'm the only one here. I laugh a little a pull out my phone, too lazy to bother getting up.

 _*"The door is unlocked. Just walk in."*_ I text him, then barely hear the door opening and closing. He's quiet while he gets in and comes upstairs, gently opening my door like he's used to breaking everything he lays his hands on.

"Hey," I say, smiling as he walks over and sits at the edge of my bed, at an awkward distance away from me.

"Nice to meet you," he grins widely, his cheeks growing more pink. "My name is Marcel."

I roll my eyes again and sit up straighter. "Whatever," I say, shaking my head. He laughs quietly and the room fills with silence. We haven't talked in a while now that I think of it.

"So..." He begins, chuckling quietly as he tries to end the quiet. "How has your break been so far?"

I shrug, leaning against my headboard. "It's alright," I say, even though it didn't have that great of a start. I don't want to bother talking about it right now. "Anything new going on?"

The small talk bugs me and I should have thought of something to do before I asked him to come over.

He sighs and shrugs saying, "I think I'm going to medical school next year."

My eyes widen in surprise when I shouldn't be shocked. If anyone in our year was going to become a doctor, it would be him. 

"Really?"

"Yeah," he let's out a breath, shrugging again with a small smile on his face. It isn't as big as it was before, but going to medical would probably stress me out more than anything so I don't blame him. I'd be nervous too. "My dad got me an application for an internship for the summer at the hospital and all my grades are good enough to get to this school in London."

"If I was smart enough to get into medical school, I'd be pretty damn excited." I comment, and he just laughs.

"I don't even know if I want to be a doctor though." He says. "I mean, I probably will because the money is good and I'll be saving lives or something, but it's like years and years of school and my grandfather was a surgeon so he's probably got the highest expectations out of everyone. Disappointing him would probably be awful."

"Well if you don't want to spend so much time in school, just don't do it." I tell him and he smiles again.

"It's not that easy." He says, rubbing his hands together. "I'm supposed to apply to schools in January or something and I don't know what the else I'm supposed to do."

"Then worry about it in January," I reply, but he laughs like I'm joking.

"I don't do the whole wait-until-last-minute thing." He reminds me, which I'm very aware of.

"You should try it," I insist, grinning. I can't picture him being like me in that way, but I guess I have my mind set on football and that's my only plan. If I ever found out I wasn't good enough, I'd probably be living off of my parents for the rest of my life. "But we're out of school so I don't want to talk about school."

He nods in agreement, making himself a little more comfortable in my bed. "Okay then," he agrees. He's still smiling and even though he isn't looking at me, and I feel like I should be looking away. I'm too focused on my posture and don't know how to sit without feeling uncomfortable.

I still look at him and when he notices, I immediately start talking again.

"Are you coming to my birthday?" I ask and he raises his eyebrows before nodding.

"Oh yeah, our mums were talking about it a few days ago." He says and I don't get why our parents would be talking about it until I realize that's not the party I'm talking about.

"No, not that one," my thumbs are nervously twiddling together and I grab a pillow and move it behind my head so I can do something with my hands. "The actual party."

He raises his eyebrows, leaning forward a bit when he asks, "What actual party?"

I grin widely and anticipate him saying no, but he won't be leaving here until he says yes.

"The one where adults are replaced with alcohol."

"I uh... I don't really do the partying thing." He tells me, and I'm reminded of the last time I got him to come to a party. Getting Emma to joke around with him changed quickly and so did my friendship with Marcel. I still feel like shit for letting that happen when I knew what was going on. I just didn't think everyone would be taking pictures. People still talk about it.

"You're coming," I tell him, not giving any room for a choice. I want all my friends to be there, including him. He's never been to one of my parties while we were actually friends and he should have fun at this one without everyone being so goddamn fake to him.

"What?" He laughs, shaking his head. He turns towards me a little more and brings his fingers to his lips, tracing the outline of them.

"It'll be my birthday gift," I tell him, immediately regretting my words.

_What the fuck does that even mean?_

He laughs again and blushes. He stares down at his hands and looks younger than usual.

"I don't even like parties," he says again, and I wouldn't doubt that the only reason he doesn't want to go is because of the bad experience I already gave him.

"What else are you going to do?" I joke, still trying to smile and relax but there's a layer of sweat developing on my palms and I have to keep wiping it away. "Read all those damn books you have?"

He smiles over at me, nodding. "Yes, actually," he grins and I don't know how he could have an entire shelf just for his books. It would take me a lifetime to get through them all.

"Don't be boring and come," I tell him and his face turns a deeper red when he laughs. He doesn't look at me too long and I can tell I intimidate him, which I don't try to do. He's still shy around me, even if he's already started to open up.

"Reading isn't boring," he denies, smiling nervously. This is the most I've seen him defensive about something and I don't get how someone could like books so much.

"Fuck, you're a loser," I joke and he tilts his head back when he laughs this time. His eyes squeeze shut and he leans onto his hands, the lively sound filling my room. Looking at him this way is comfortably uncomfortable and it won't ever make sense if I try putting it into words, but I know I can't move my eyes away. It's frustrating that I'm not angry with myself for doing this and forcing this on myself when I know I can't be gay.

I tell myself I don't feel anything for him because all I'm used to is people feeling like shit and treating each other like shit so I'm not familiar with something else. No matter how many times I force myself to think of some random girl I don't even care about, my mind starts wandering to him again. It pisses me off that I can't change anything, but maybe if I get familiar with the way he is around me then I won't want to change anything.

"I just don't like parties," he continues, in the least convincing tone. He'll have fun if I was there letting him instead of making him look like an idiot.

"So? It's my birthday," I say and he rolls his eyes dramatically.

" _So_?" He asks, stubbornly leaving his answer be. There's still a smile on his face so I know I'm not crossing a line trying to force him to go.

"So friends go to their friends parties. Especially if it's their birthday." I insist, sitting up a little more straight to adjust the pillow behind my head.

My hands are sweaty again and I'm over thinking every fucking word that comes out of my mouth, but I don't stop talking. It's fun to laugh with him like this but there's something growing in my stomach that should be making me restless and anxious, not calm and relaxed.

"Louis..." He complains, his eyebrows pushing together to contrast with the beaming smile on his face.

"You'll be missing out," I sigh, attempting not to stare at him so much. It's creepy as fuck and he keeps blushing and looking away every time he notices me.

He hesitates in replying this time and my grin gets bigger.

"I'll make sure you have fun. Just come." I go on and he sighs, looking over at me and nods. Even if he doesn't agree today, I still have time to convince him

He's still smiling and brushes his hair out of his eyes, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he agrees.

I keep getting flashes of kissing him and I try to push it away with memories of kissing Amanda and Cassidy and Peyton, but something that didn't even happen gives me more feeling. I'd kill to hate it, but I don't.

I give him a normal smile and adjust how I sit again. It looks like I moved closer even if we have a metre of space between us.

My heart has been beating faster than normal while I think about being with him and I can't think of anything else, like how my dad would hate me if he found out about this and how fucked up he would think I am or how he would insist that it doesn't mean anything and deny any feelings I might have. I don't think of how Sam would call me a fag and paint the word pink all over my locker like they did with Marcel. Like _we_ did with Marcel. Then Amanda would tell all her friends how she knew something was going on so she broke up with me.

I don't think about those things, instead thinking about his thick lips wrapping around mine and his palms pressing against the dip in my waist and the taste of his silky tongue. I think of my fingers buried in his thick curls and my muscles aching to pull him closer and being desperate for him every time we're not touching.

"Louis?" His voice brings me out of my thoughts and he shakes my arm. I jump and I wonder how long I was thinking about things I shouldn't even be curious about.

"What?" I ask, looking over at him again. I didn't notice he's moved closer to me, but its near enough that I could reach out and bring him closer.

"You okay?" He wonders with a laugh. I lick my lips nervously and attempt to laugh, but it's silent and shaky.

Even when he lifts his hand from my arm, the warmth of his skin lingers and my skin scatters with goosebumps. The small touch distracts me again and I have to force myself to answer him.

"Yeah, I'm good," I reply, wanting my mind to go blank so I don't have to worry about anything.

He still looks unsure of my answer, but he just smiles and lets it go, leaning away from me again. I want him to come back to me.

He starts the conversation again, going off about something that's making him smile. He talks slowly and quiet like he usually does and dreams of him burn my every nerve until the thought of us is igniting into flames. It's something that should hurt and singe my bones but it keeps burning and the light keeps shining until he leaves and I smile when I say goodbye but can barely breathe when he's gone.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis would rather be dreaming.

Songs for this chapter:

[Rain - Jon Heintz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaVXVWeZVe0)

 

Louis' POV

I daydream two seconds after I'm uninterested in something. My mum talks to me and I tune out so easily she starts yelling about never paying attention when she speaks. I stare at the goddamn television and something gets me thinking about shit. Not just any mindless shit that doesn't matter either. _Him_.

When he left the other day, the daydreaming wasn't only about the dreams I've had. The second my brain decided to think about the things we talked about and the way I acted when he was around, I was set into a panic. I sat on my bed, hearing him close the front door and thought I could hear fucking step he took away from the house. The farther he got away, the more my chest compressed and my lungs burned and my mind throbbed because he was away from me and I wanted him to come back. Before, I would have been glad he was away from me and the only thing my mind would be on is how annoying he can be. I wouldn't be going over all the things I said and the smallest touches that mean nothing. It's confusing and I'm almost helpless when I try to avoid everything that reminds me of him, because everything reminds me of him.

We still hang out a lot more than I thought we would. Every time I get a call from Amanda or text saying we should do something, I tell her I'm already on my way to Marcel's or Sam's or Ian's or anybody that isn't her. I'm rarely ever talking to Sam or Ian though. I always end up texting Marcel to hang out, staring at the words I type, erasing and starting over to make sure it doesn't sound too happy or too uninterested before I give up and pressing send.

Anything that involves him I find myself repeating "just" to make it seem like everything I'm doing is okay.

It's _just_ a text.

We're _just_ hanging out.

I'm _just_ talking to him.

We _just_ get on well.

 _We're just friends_.

But somehow doing that makes over thinking even worse.

Then there's Amanda that couldn't stop bugging me yesterday. She called my fucking house because I wouldn't ring her when she told me to, so my mother answered and got me to talk. She started crying when I said I couldn't meet up with her, so I went to her place and she didn't stop crying and asking why she was never good enough until I agreed to date her again. My mind was in other places so I didn't really know what I was agreeing to, and I couldn't stop thinking about other things every time she kissed me. I don't like being with her and now that we're back together I think I'm cheating on her every time I talk to or think about Marcel. I'm always with him instead of her, but that's not cheating. We're just friends.

I'm not doing anything wrong but staying with her. There's nothing that could be right about it, which is why I've still been keeping my distance and hoping she gets mad at me again. It can't be too damn hard. I always seem to be fucking things up in our relationship, according to her. This can't be lasting very long. There's people I can be with that are better than her.

"We'll see you on Monday, okay?" My mother says, looking at her bags and going through her phone. My dad is talking on his and looks like he's close to yelling. "I know it's close to your birthday and I'm sorry-"

"You've literally apologised more than fifty times already." I laugh, only hoping they leave before people a start showing up. They're going away for a few days for work. They got an "emergency" call saying they needed to be in London for something I couldn't care less about, because that means I can have that party I've been waiting for.

"But we're always home the week before Christmas." She pouts and I roll my eyes because they act like they won't be here at all for the rest of the holidays. "We're supposed to be off right now and-"

"Calm down," I say with a grin across my face. I'm sure she didn't get any sleep last night trying to pack her things along with all my dad's shit because he was too busy screaming on his phone to do anything else. "I'll survive."

She smiles at me and I can hear my dad's voice getting louder in the other room, making my mother groan and put her phone away to deal with him.

"He's going to be on edge the whole flight, so we might as well get this done and over with." She leans in and gives me a brief hug, pressing an uncomfortable kiss to my cheek and has to wipe away her lipstick afterwards.

She calls out my dad's name and he walks back out, his mobile still pressed to his ear. She tells him they're leaving and he takes a suitcase, walking out the door without looking my way.

I can see her shoot a disapproving glare, but he's too focused on leaving to notice.

"Okay. Absolutely no parties again and don't have too many people over." She tells me as she walks to the door. I try not to smile so much when I nod.

There are people piling in an hour after they're gone.

 

Marcel's POV

I stare at my mirror blankly, pushing my messy hair around to fix it. I've been looking at it so much I start to hate everything down the colour and thickness of each strand, playing with my glasses instead of fussing over it. I end up debating if I should go to Louis' half blind, but if people are stumbling around with drinks in their hands, it's best that I can see how to avoid getting something dumped on me again.

I'm nervous and excited to go while Louis and I are in such a good place. Last time he invited me to a party I had bad nerves, and now I have these good nerves that are all new to me because I've never had anyone who genuinely wanted to be my friend. I like him more than I need to and I used to hate thinking of him that way when he hated me. When he laughs and asks me to hang out and puts effort into our friendship, I feel like he wants to be with me equally but he's always acted so homophobic before that I shouldn't either take that as suppression or that he actually hates gay people. We've been hanging out a lot more than I expected, and he's usually the one to text me and ask if I'm free. I'm not used to people being like that around me and it's probably why I think he might like me more than he does.

But even if he did like guys, I don't see him ending up with someone like me. He's gorgeous and funny and smart and he could have anyone he wanted. He wouldn't choose me.

I get a text from Louis asking if I'm going to change my mind last minute and I fuss with myself again before telling him I'm on my way.

I hope people are drunk enough to not care that I'm there and that I'll be around Louis. He's the only person I talk to and I don't want to follow him around the whole damn night, but I probably will, even if it gives everyone more of a reason to think I'm annoying.

My mum went to work at ten this morning and it's her last day until she takes days off for Christmas and New Years, so she probably won't be home until three in the morning or something unnecessary. My dad already has his days off, so he's home a lot of the time and will make sure I'm home by one. Even if I don't ever go out, I'm sure they know that Louis does and they don't want me around all his friends while they're partying.

"I'm going to go to Louis' for a bit. He's having a few friends over for his birthday and he invited me." I clasp my hands together so I don't fidget with them. I'm never good at lying, even if the only lie is saying "a few friends."

"Is his birthday not on Christmas Eve?" He wonders, raising an eyebrow. I already feel myself getting more nervous. He wouldn't like it if I was going to a party, even if I don't drink. He'd think I'd get trashed and try to drive home or something.

"It is, but he does this thing where he only has friends over one night and family on his actual birthday." I explain. The second I stutter or babble, he's going to know I'm lying about something. But if he doesn't ask about it being a party or if there's alcohol around, I won't have to tell him.

"Well don't be gone too long, alright?" He says, settling my nerves. "One at the latest. You get those migraines if you don't sleep well."

He has no idea that six solid hours is considered a good sleep for me.

"I know. I'll be back by then." I tell him, sliding a jacket around my shoulders and pulling my shoes on before I take my keys and leave. I look at the time on my phone again and know I'm later than I said I'd be, but I didn't want to be the first one there and look like I'm overly excited to see Louis, which I am.

I drive slowly too, relieved to see that there are already a bunch of people inside when I get there.

The music is blaring loud enough that I don't bother knocking, walking into the warm house with swarming bodies. People are talking and a few of them stare at me when I come in, obviously not drunk enough to forget about hating me yet. I tell myself they won't care after a few more drinks and that there are so many other people that they'll get distracted. I'd be more worried if there were only a few of us.

I look away from them and my immediate goal is to find Louis. I'm not going to know anyone else and I don't want to stand around and wait for someone to talk to me, because I'd be standing around for a long time.

I slide past people and try not to bump into too many of them, but they're usually the ones knocking into me. I haven't seen them before, but anyone that I have classes with glare at me as if they're me know I don't belong here, because I don't. I belong by myself and I'd rather be by myself, but I'm putting Louis first because I've been alone for seventeen years. I'll be an adult soon and only know how to be alone.

I walk by his kitchen and people are hanging around his table, the counters filled with booze in different bottles that are different shapes and sizes and colours. I still don't see Louis anywhere, anxious and suffocated the more I'm alone. I feel like they're all staring at me and asking their friends why I'm hear and maybe they're talking about Louis in all the wrong ways, but no one will speak to me about it.

"Looks like you didn't pussy out after all." Hands are on my shoulders, turning me around and I can breathe without struggling when Louis smiles up at me.

"Sorry I'm late," I apologize and he shrugs, keeping a hand on my shoulder as he begins to walk me somewhere. He doesn't seem drunk yet, but he's smiling widely and it's contagious when I feel the warmth of his hand against me. It's relaxing and I'm no longer stressing about looking like an idiot as I try to find him.

"Doesn't matter," he brushes it off and brings me to the kitchen area again, where I see some of his friends sitting, looking over at us.

"Happy early birthday, by the way," I tell him, trying to stall time before he pulls me over with them.

"I think you're the first person to say that." He informs me, looking impressed. "Most of the people here probably don't know my birthday isn't today or they're just here to get drunk."

I smile and try not to stare at him so long. I can see some of his chest tattoos peeking out along the collar of his black shirt and his dark clothing makes his eyes appear lighter. He has to look up at me and I bend down a little so I can hear what he's saying over the loud music.

"Want a drink?"

I shake my head no.

"I'm driving home," I say, glad that I have the excuse.

"Are your parents home?" He asks and I nod. He wrinkles his nose and the sides of our bodies press together when we try to get past people that don't want to move. It doesn't seem to bother him and I won't be minding it any time soon. "Boring."

I laugh and I know he's bringing me over to his friends, but they don't look like they want to talk to me or be around me. Amanda is already peeling her attention away from her friends to smile fondly at Louis, not noticing me. She looks at him like he's going to give her everything she wants and expect nothing in return and I look away so I don't have to think too much about it.

When Louis told me they were back together I felt bad for him because I know someone else could make him happier, and I'm still a little unsettled with the subject now. I know he doesn't like her and he definitely doesn't love her like she thinks. He was more relaxed when they had broken things off and now that she's with him again, she doesn't seem to stop texting him and calling him and obsessing over their relationship. Whenever I'm with Louis, his mobile will always be buzzing and he'd groan every time he looked at the screen and saw her name.

_"It's her again," he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair. His facial expression changes and i see dimple above his eyebrow when he frowns._

_"You seem miserable, Louis." I point out and he laughs a little even if I'm trying to stay serious. "I don't know why you're back with her."_

_He shrugs and looks down at his phone, tapping on the screen with his thumbs before locking it. Looking back at me, he takes in a deep breath. His gaze lingers on my face before he looks down at his hands and shrugs again and I think he genuinely doesn't know why he's with her either. Still, he doesn't seem like he's leaving her._

"You obviously know everyone here so I'm not going to bother with names." Louis says, sitting on the opposite side of the table from Amanda with me next to him. Everyone's conversations come to a gradual halt and they all exchange awkward glances and silent conversations with their facial expressions.

Louis is the first one to say something again, making sure to involve me when he talks about something they're planning the night of Christmas. I don't pay much attention to what he's saying, rather looking at the way his lips and tongue look when they wrap around his words and how his whole face changes when he smiles and laughs.

~*~

Louis is wasted and so is everyone else and while the people try to talk over the music, someone turns the volume up so the music is over the people.

Louis keeps me with him most of the night and if I'm ever without him, there's someone that knows Louis introducing themselves and slurring their words when they try to start a coherent conversation with me.

There's a girl I've never seen that isn't very pretty but keeps coming near Louis and I. She has platinum blonde hair and grey eyes and can't walk in a straight line, just like most of the other people on their feet. I'm sure my face is a bit blurry to her, but she talks to me a lot when her friends aren't pulling her away for more shots or saying that she needs to go talk to someone or help them get to the toilet. Her voice is too high pitched and scratchy and makes everything else I listen to sound heavenly, and I can tell Louis absolutely hates being around her.

He drinks constantly and even if I tell him he should stop before he vomits, he doesn't. It makes me wonder why and if he's doing it because he needs to forget something or someone or if he might be sadder than he lets other people know.

When he leaves to use the toilet and I'm left with a bunch of people he introduced me to, one of whom is the blonde girl that talks to me too much for my own comfort. Her name is Victoria and all her friends call her Vicky, which also makes me uncomfortable.

"How long have you known Louis?" She asks me, leaning in close enough that I can smell her reeking breath.

"We've gone to school together for a little over a year." I say, trying to back up so I can breathe cleaner air.

"He's still dating that Amanda girl, isn't he?" She asks, a bit of a pout on her face. It's the first time I'm actually glad he got back together with her. I'd actually rather him be with Amanda than her.

"Yeah," I say. She only seems to want to talk about Louis, but I don't know how to change the conversation to something else. "They've been together a long time."

She starts laughing and I don't know why, but I keep looking around for Louis to come back even if he just left.  
"She seems like..." She trails off and laughs a bit more. "Like a bitch. I don't know why he likes her."

I can agree with her on that one.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I like him. He's hot."

I don't known how to respond to this, but I silently agree with her.

"Marcel!" Louis' voice is yelling louder than necessary and he pulls me away from Victoria before she can start flirting with him again. While we get farther from her, she stares at him so much I'm embarrassed for both of them. "What were you guys talking about?"

"You," I chuckle and he grins, putting his face closer to mine. I hold my breath and can feel his brush against my neck and ear when he speaks quietly.

" _She's DUFF-ing you_."

I laugh and he nods.

"What?"

"Dumb Ugly Fat Friend. You haven't watched that?" He wonders, and I know exactly what he's talking about. The fact that it's me intensifies my insecurities, because I didn't think he thought of me that way. "Anyway, that's what she's doing. Except you're not dumb." He smiles softly and looks up at me. I no longer know how I should feel about what he's saying. "And you're handsome. And you're obviously not fat. You're actually pretty great."

He looks down at all of me before making eye contact again and my body weakens.

"Thank you," my throat is dry and I can't believe that actually happened even if he's drunk. His grin gets bigger and brighter when he laughs. He isn't embarrassed with what he said or worried if people will hear him.

"You are very welcome," he replies. He keeps looking at me and I can't talk anymore. "What was I saying?" I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I think of him looking at me over and over and I don't know how to do anything else.

"Oh yeah. Victoria," he goes on. "She's been obsessed with me for like, two years or something."

"Really?" I laugh, even though I'm not surprised. I don't know a girl that doesn't like Louis.

"Yeah. It's a little uncomfortable," he points out. "So she tries to talk to all my friends about me and tries to get them to ask me to ask her out."

I nod, trying to follow his elongated pronunciations.

"It's not that she wouldn't talk to you because she doesn't like you." He goes on. "I bet lots of girls would like you if you talked to them."

I can't help but smile at his drunken babbling, forgetting about the almost-insult he made that somehow became a compliment.

"I actually don't see why you haven't got a girlfriend yet." He continues, bringing me over to sit down. It's just the two of us on his sofa and people walk by without noticing. Our thighs touch even if he leans against the armrest opposite of me and I have to grip my hands together so they don't move towards him. He looks at me like I matter, even if the world from his point of view is blurry.

"But don't date Victoria. She won't care about you and you probably won't like her very much and end up like me and Amanda." He tells me. "And you don't want that."

"You should have just stayed broken up." I say yet again, and nods in agreement.

"I know," he answers. "I think she's mad."

"Why?" I ask. When we walked in tonight she seemed pretty happy with him.

"I've been avoiding her. I don't like spending time with her so I hang out with you instead."

I always thought he only wanted to hang out with me when his other friends were busy.

"You're better than her," he says. I don't get how people don't hear what he's saying. He talks loudly and it's the sort of gossip everyone in our school loves spreading. "I had a dream about you."

Everything we were previously talking about is forgotten and I think of those six words only.

"What?" I look directly at him while I wait for an answer because I'll go mad if I don't get one.

"Yeah. It was really nice," he admits, looking up at me again. "You're really nice."

"What do you mean?" I insist, only wanting to hear about the dream. I don't care about anything else that happens tonight if I get to hear about this. If he couldn't tell me while he was sober then maybe it's something I need to be aware of.  
He stands up without answering me. "I have to go find my 'girlfriend.'" He informs me, putting air quotations on Amanda's meaningless label. "Maybe if we snog for a bit, she might not hate me so much."

He starts to walk away and I grab his arm.

"Louis, wait," I stop him and he looks back at me. "What dream?"

He just shrugs and laughs, starting to walk away. I follow him and keep pressuring him to tell me, but he doesn't give me any answer that will settle my mind. My heart races and my body is hotter than it was before we started talking like he's all over me instead of beside me.

He finds Amanda with her friends and when she sees him, she also sees me and shoots a glare.

"Where were you?" She hisses and he rolls his eyes, putting his hands on her waist. She tries pushing him away, but he goes in to kiss her anyway. Everyone around can see the look of disgust on her face when she pushes him away and I should be thinking about them fighting, but I still wonder about that damn dream.

"What the hell are you doing?" She yells and he still has a grin on his face. I don't know if I should step in, but it looks like she's about to hit him. "You've barely been paying me attention tonight or at all since we've gotten back together and now that your piss drunk you think that's okay?"

He has a small frown on his face and he looks towards me as if I should speak on his behalf.

"I was with Marcel, calm down." He tells her, which only sets her off into a deeper state of anger.

"Well you should be spending time with me." She demands.

No one is saying anything or stepping between them. They all stand and watch.

"Come on, love. It's my birthday," he tries to excuse his actions, when I wonder if Amanda has ever had an excuse for the things that she's done. No matter what, I can tell everything is going downhill from here. Even if they're both drunk, they shouldn't be fighting where everyone can hear them and talk about it.

"It's not even your birthday yet," she denies, folding her arms across her chest dramatically. She stumbles standing straight up and my mind is still heavy with Louis' words and the way he looked at me. "How would you like it if I was off with some other guy?" She looks at me again, which causes everyone else to look at me like I'm the one Louis has been cheating on her with. "You'd be just as pissed if I was with someone else all the time."

His bubbly disposition quickly changes.

"I don't give a shit who you're with."

Her eyebrows furrow together deeply and before anyone can stop her, she raises an open hand and puts all her force into hitting him.

He winces even if it looks like it could be worse, then I think that nothing is worse than this. If their genders were reversed, the people around us wouldn't be laughing.  
Louis, however, starts laughing with the rest of them.

"Fuck you," she spits, walking away from him.

A few of her friends follow her lead and Louis still has a cocky smirk on his face when he shakes his head and turns away from her. He presses his own hand to his reddening cheek, shaking it off before he looks at me. He doesn't look emotionally effected by any of her actions like they happen all the time, just in different forms.

"I should have listened to you the first time."


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step closer to almost.

Songs for this chapter:

[Memo - Years & Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eolPN4j3npQ)

 

Louis' POV

_He turns around and emerald eyes are peering down on me, basking my body and nerves in a comfort I've never felt before. I want to take off his glasses so I can see him better, but I want him to look clearly at me too. No one else notices me in the way that he does and I hope he sees me as everything I am and could ever be._

_"Hi," his voice is shy and quiet and he lifts his hands to my neck. His fingers are warm as his thumb slides under the curve of my jaw that matches the curve of my smile. All vitality swells between the two of us and I don't want his hands to move away from me. I'd rather him trace and memorize every inch of me than step away._

_"Hey," I reply, tilting my chin up to look at him. I'm wrapped so tightly in him that I don't want to move, but when his actions are hesitant as he moves closer to me, I couldn't be anymore impatient having his swollen lips wrapping and moulding themselves into mine. I pull on the sides of his jacket to bring his body into mine, making sure he can't move away from me. I need him as close as possible because my pulse is already thrumming and the beat of his heart against my chest is like I'm holding the living organ in my hands. His lips are smooth and his hands are still against my neck, refusing push away. We were made to fit like this and I don't know how the hell we were ever separated, but I'll stay with him as much as I can to make up for the lost time._

_We pull back with subtle laughter even if I wish I could kiss him longer, but our smiles stop and he looks terrified then I feel everyone ounce of fear humanly possibly._

_"What's going on?" I ask. I can't touch him anymore and it hurts to move. He keeps looking past me, shaking his head and I want to see what the hell is going on, but I move an inch and my skin burns itself._

_"It's okay," his words tremble so much that I turn around despite the pain, only to receive a familiar look of disappointment and anger._

_"I love you. We'll be fine," there's no confidence in his voice as the man stares at us and I don't know what to do to comfort him or myself._

_"He hates me," I can't rip my eyes away from the cold hard gaze and I want to run and get away and be alone with Marcel again, but I can't move._

_Marcel reaches towards me and I don't expect to feel him, but as soon as our hands touch my mind is put at ease. There's more hate from my father when Marcel comes closer, our bodies touching as he wraps his arms around. I'm erupted with warmth but all too soon it's being taken away from me and replaced with screaming and rough hands forcing us apart so hard I think he might leave bruises._

_I'm compelled to look at my father instead of the person I don't hide from. He's cursing at me and it all feels like a punch in the face. He yells so many things at me that all sound fuzzy, and only one thing is clear out of it all._

_"Stop fucking this up."_

_When he hits me, I wish he'd go back to screaming._

My head throbs and my body is hot, and thick layer of sweat cascading across my chest. I can't open my eyes without a slicing pain through my skull and when I roll over in bed, it's enough motion to make me want to regurgitate the last few things I ate.

"Fuck..." I groan, pulling my dark blankets over my face.

I barely remember taking my first drink last night. There are bits of seeing people and saying things and I can picture being with Amanda and her familiar angry face then seeing Sam grinning at me and I remember Marcel next to me.

I took him where no one could see us and I kissed him. I kissed a guy and I liked it and it made me want to do it again.

 _That was a dream_.

My heart is racing as fast as my brain throbs while I try to separate the dream from reality. My thoughts race all over to everything that happened in the past twenty four hours and I don't know how to keep up with it all.

My dad came in when we kissed and my dad is still out of town so I kissed Marcel in the dream, but he was still at the party. Did I kiss him there too? I laughed with him and there's images of him smiling inside me but I couldn't have kissed him. That was just a dream and I wouldn't do that. I _can't_ do that. I'm not gay.

My father's furious glare is drilled in my head along with all the times my friends have called someone a fag or said how being gay is so wrong.

I want to say it's fucked up to keep thinking of Marcel like this, no matter how normal it might feel. I obviously can't force myself to stop either. Whenever that happens, he shows up when I'm fucking unconscious and stressing about it makes me more ill.

I can't get comfortable in my bed, my skin still so damp that I pull off my blankets. A layer of dense, warm air still covers me so it doesn't help much, and neither does my attempt to massage away the headache, still thinking of how he kissed me. Even if it wasn't real I could feel all of it. It's so fucking stupid and I wouldn't even be thinking about it if I wasn't having all these fucking dreams. I haven't thought this way about any of my other friends or any guy in general. It's just Marcel and it doesn't make and fucking sense.

I sit up. I can't breathe properly when I lay down, the walls of my lungs sticking together and suffocating me.

I try to think of someone else because I don't want to believe myself, picturing any of my friends the way I've pictured Marcel. I think of Sam and how many times I've been around him and I think of hanging out with Ian and Trent and Adam and every other guy I've been around. It's not the same as thinking about Marcel like that, but my stomach turns and I have to run to vomit in my toilet because it still feels better than thinking of any girl I've ever been with. They aren't numb like Amanda is and I need them to be.

I wipe my mouth and quickly go to brush my teeth, still gagging from the sour taste alone. It burns my throat and clings to the inside of my nose and I can still taste it after I spit in the sink. I keep brushing my teeth and drinking water until it's gone and the only thing left behind is the thoughts that make my head pound.

The light is too bright even if most of the windows are closed, but I go back into my dark bedroom anyway. I should have grabbed water, but I'm too tired and too ill to stand up unless I need to. I should go back to sleep so I can't think about all of this shit, but I don't doubt that I'll dream of Marcel again if I close my eyes.

I can't even remember if I showered last night but it feels like I didn't. The whole fucking house is probably a mess and I'm going to be the only one here to clean it up unless people are passed out downstairs. They won't even want to help and I'm already debating on ringing Marcel to come by, even if that won't be good for the dreams and the daydreaming and all the other shit I do. I'll probably do it anyway when my headache subsides, if it ever does.

I need to ring Amanda too. She's still going to be pissed at me. Maybe her yelling and fighting will take my mind off Marcel and maybe I won't have to deal with thinking about him so long.

I feel around my bed for my phone until I have to sit up, groaning in pain still. I see it on the floor and bend to reach for it, but blood rushes to my head and I sit up seeing black spots. My skull pounds more and my eyes screw shut. My lips tingle and I don't think the splitting pain will stop, even if it lasts only a few seconds.

I probably shouldn't be calling her. I'm sick and tired and probably still a little drunk. I don't see this going well.

I dial her number anyway and in only rings a few times before she picks up.

"What?" She snaps.

I regret grabbing my phone in the first place.

"I was rude last night," I begin. She's already letting out an annoyed, impatient sigh. "I'm sorry for what I did."

To be honest, I don't even remember what I may or may not have done. Either way, she was still angry at me and was going to be until I apologised.

"That's your apology?" She asks, not giving me much time to reply. "Unbelievable."

The next thing I hear is a dial tone, and I don't think I've never met a more fucking annoying human being.

I drop my phone and debate on figuring it out later or just letting her continue to be mad so I don't have to try with our fucked-up relationship anymore.

I try to go back to sleep in hope that my hangover will slowly succumb to a healthier state, but an hour later I'm still wide awake with the same splitting headache and the only distraction being thoughts of some guy I used to hate a few months ago.

I leave my bedroom to take painkillers and drink water, finding a few friends passed out in the guest bedrooms or on the sofas. They're the only people I let stay the night, and everyone else I didn't know well are forced to get out before the sun comes up. If I let them stay, there would be people fucking in bedrooms and being loud in the morning and throwing up in so many places it would be impossible to clean up before my parents got home.

I still have two days before they get here, which will give me enough time to put everything back to where it was, but I refuse to do it by myself. Cleaning up is one of the very few benefits of having my drunk friends spend the night. I'd lose my mind if I had to do all this shit by myself.

My brain pulses every time I take a step downstairs and my body still feels hot, even if I'm only in my pyjama trousers.

I'm surprised I even remembered to change last night.

When I get downstairs, the mess is worse than I remember and I can see Ian and Emma already trying to sneak out.

"You piece of shit, you know the rules." I stop them with a smirk and they turn around, groaning. "I give you a place to stay and you help with the mess. Don't be a douchebag."

"We literally always help you clean up this place." He complains, but still walks back into the house because I wouldn't let them go if they tried.

"You sound such like a little bitch. Just clean something up." I say with a small laugh.

He shakes his head and I can tell he wants to be pissed off, but they need to at least put a dent in the chaos. I give them each a bag for the rubbish and they aren't pleased with me, but start picking up whatever shit is on the ground.

The painkillers don't do much to my headache, but make it tolerable. The more people wake up, the less I have to do anyway. I can make the excuse of needing to use the toilet so I can sit down again, away from everyone's loud talking and laughter while they talk about last night. I can't even say anything because now all I'm remembering is Marcel.

I take a seat on the edge of the bathtub and rest my elbows on my knees, sinking my face in my hands.

Something is wrong with me in every right way. I like thinking about Marcel so much I can't stop and it wouldn't seem so bad if he was a girl, but he isn't. That small detail makes the entire situation fucked up. It makes _me_ fucked up and the more I want to forget about it, the more kissing him feels real.

My head snaps up when my phone loudly vibrates beside me. I grab it so the noise stops, but I painfully expect Amanda's name to show up on the screen when I look down at it. Even if I rang her, hearing her voice makes me want to take a break from listening to her complaints and all the things I've done wrong. But when I do look down, relief floods over me and I don't have to second guess turning my phone off.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask Marcel, sitting up straighter.

"Nothing," he replies simply. "How hungover are you?"

I grin widely. He most likely knows more of what I did last night than I will ever get the chance of remembering.

"Terribly," I answer. "My head hurts and I still feel disgusting and my goddamn house is a wreck."

"I'm not surprised. I didn't expect that many people to show up." He speaks softly and I don't know if it's just the speaker on my phone, but it makes my head hurt less.

"What can I say? I'm a pretty popular guy." I brag, already thinking about asking him to come over and help because I know he'll say yes, but I know more people are already awake and cleaning things up because it's noisier outside than I'd like.

I hear him laughing softly and I rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes. It's too bright in here and I should have just left everyone to clean up and gone back to bed. It's nice to have hear him though.

"So is Amanda doing well?" He wonders. I can hear a slightly sarcastic tone in his voice and I still struggle to remember what I did.

"No, but I don't know why," I admit. "I don't really care why either, but if you would tell me that would be fucking fantastic."

I can hear amusement in his voice when he says, "She slapped you."

"What the fuck?" I ask, laughing because I can't tell if he's serious, even if it's something she would do. Especially if she was drinking. "Really? What did I do?"

"She said you were avoiding her or something, then you kissed her, then she hit you in front of everyone."

I shake my head, trying not to smile so much at the thought. She's fucking ridiculous. "Sounds realistic," I say, hearing a loud knock on the door.

"What are you doing?" A loud voice asks and I roll my eyes, groaning.

"I'm on the phone, piss off," I demand, but they knock again.

"So you leave us to clean up your shit so you can talk on the phone?"

I ignore them and go back to Marcel.

"Who's that?" He asks.

"Sounds like Sam. Might be someone else." I tell him. "They're bitching about me not helping them clean up."

"Did you need help?" He offers. "I'm not doing anything and can come by for a bit."

Sam knocks on the door again and jiggles the handle.

"I'll be out in a minute!" I yell and hear him walk away before I get back to Marcel. I'm not taking advantage of him being nice if he suggests helping out. "Yeah - sure. Just stop by whenever. I'm sure people are already trying to sneak out so the charity is greatly needed."

"So you're not paying me?" He jokes and I roll my eyes, standing up.

I get a little light headed, but can still hear him laughing so it subsides quicker.

"I'll pay you with food. See you soon."

 

Marcel's POV

Louis' front door is unlocked when I get there, and cars are still parked in his driveway. I don't know how many people are inside from last night, but Louis was telling me to stay the night because most of his friends did when they partied. I thought about saying yes, but I'd be around his drunken friends and my parents would more than likely get pissed off for not coming home when I was told to.

Even when I was halfway out the door, I tried to get back on the subject of his dream, even if he was out of his right mind. I don't think he knew what I was talking about by that time, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I still can't stop thinking about it.

I let myself in and hear people talking, embarrassingly walking in on all of Louis' friends with things in their hands, picking up stuff from the ground and throwing it in bags. They all turn and look at me and Sam immediately has a grin on his face and I can tell he'll say something the moment I leave the room, or with me still in it.

"Uh - Where's Louis?" I ask, and Ian is the first to speak up.

"He was in the kitchen doing something," he answers and I nod, leaving them quickly so they can talk about me being here. I'd rather them do it while I wasn't around anyway.

I go into the kitchen and find Louis leaning against the counter with his phone in his hands, shirtless.

"Hey," he says, looking up at me. My mouth goes dry and I stare at his eyes so he doesn't notice me looking anywhere else, but I can still see it all in my peripheral vision - all the tattoos and sharp angles and muscles and curves that make me weak. I don't think I'm blinking.

"Hi," I manage to say. My tongue is thick and tingly and I know my face is red and I have to look away before he picks it up. "What do you - uh - need help with?" I scratch the back of my neck and look around the room, seeing empty or half-empty liquor bottles everywhere. I guess asking wasn't necessary.

"I need help with everything," he chuckles, putting his phone away. "There's so much shit everywhere."

I smile and lick my lips. It doesn't do much. "Is that why you're not doing anything?" I tease and he grins, shrugging.

"I thought I had all the bitches outside doing everything for me." He explain with a smirk.

"Is that why you wanted me to come over?" I joke and he laughs, looking a little guilty when he breaks our eye contact. I have to clear my throat when I start talking again, trying to make light of this so it isn't weird. "Are you taking advantage of my niceness?"

"You asked to help. It gave me the perfect opportunity." He replies, taking a rubbish bag out of a box and handing it to me. "So you could at least clean up some stuff while you're here."

I wipe my hands on my trousers before I take the bag from him and start putting things inside of it.

"So demanding," I say and he rolls his eyes at me.

"So when did you leave last night?" He wonders, taking empty bottles and cans off of the counter.

"Before one. My parents were home and they don't like me out late." I say, finding the excuse a little childish, but staying any later couldn't have done any good. I don't know what happened between Louis and Amanda after I left, but I'm sure there's more to the story that I haven't heard.

"Shitty," he says, wrinkling his nose when he picks up a can coated in a red, thick, candy looking substance.

We're left alone the entire time we clean the kitchen and Louis' presence is distant. I'm not sure if it's because he's hungover or if his friends are in the next room. Every now and then someone will come in to ask where something is or where to put something, but they'd leave right away. Louis gets tense whenever they are around, but it would slowly disappear when we start talking again.

I like the way he looks at me more than I used to. It's like I matter to him more, even if it's all in my head. The only time he gets strange is when we're next to each other and trying to tie a bag shut without ripping it open. We filled it too much and were laughing about it, and I can feel the heat of his warm skin against me and he keeps laughing when my hands slip or when I look like I'm about to drop it all on the floor.

He looks up and he's close enough to kiss.

My ribcage shakes every time my heart beats and he's looking at my mouth and his breath is hot against my lips. We hesitate and linger without moving and I don't know what to do, but he pulls away too soon and takes a step back. I go cold.

He looks away and doesn't say anything and this happens too often for me not to question it. He looks at me again and might tell me something or apologize for being close but I can't stop thinking about him kissing me now and how maybe he's thinking about it too even if that chance might be one in a million. It's confusing and I don't know how to ask him without telling him that I'd kill to let him kiss me.

He jumps when Sam comes into the room and I thought he might have forgotten what he wanted to say, but he turns red and is intimidated by everything around him. My stomach drops and Sam doesn't say anything about us being close or ask what we were doing. He says everything is done and tells Louis that everyone is leaving.

Louis nods and says that's fine, and they don't make eye contact either.

Sam stares as us too long when he leaves, and I only notice my lungs are starting to burn when the front door closes behind them because I've been holding my breath the entire time, only letting it out now. Louis lets out a breath too and he changes the subject to graduation instead of doing whatever he was about to do, and it's hard for him to look at me but I still find it hard to not look at him.

If Sam didn't walk in, I wonder if he'd build up the courage to kiss me because I know I wouldn't have the strength to let him stop.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of things.

Songs for this chapter:

[Worship - Years & Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjKDzsD5jVo)

 

Louis' POV

He kept asking me if I was okay after everyone left and every time I said yes, I only wanted to say no.

I've thought about kissing him before, but never like that. I've never been  _that close_ to going through with it, so if Sam didn't walk in and if I kept forgetting that there were other people in the house, I would have kissed him and the only part that scares the shit out of me is that I don't think I would have regretted it.

When Marcel left, my lungs began to collapse and my brain swelled and didn't stop until I fell asleep again. My entire body was in an aching, longing pain that I didn't think I'd have to endure because I didn't think I'd have to ache for a person so badly before.

It's been two days and my parents are home now without a reason to think that I've had a huge party here. I've only texted Marcel a few times because I don't want him to think I'm being distant because of what happened. He's coming to my birthday tomorrow and that will mean a lot of time spent together, so I still need somewhat of a separation before we're together again. I don't want him to think anything of it, but I know being around him will only intensify everything I've thought about,  _and I can't stop thinking about it._

I've been with girls my entire life and I don't understand how I can like guys. I thought people were supposed to find this shit out when they're kids or something, not when they're nearly an adult and have been in relationships before. Even when I try to rule out every possibility that could make me gay, something always seems valid enough. Amanda didn't feel right and Peyton didn't feel right and kissing girls never felt right and thinking about boys feels anything but wrong. I can't feel anything but anger towards myself and fear that someone is going to find out. Whether it's Marcel or my parents or any of my friends, I can't stand the thought of anyone else knowing. It's eats me alive not being able to say anything, but I'd rather go insane than tell someone.

I still do my best to doubt myself, but my head is about to explode trying to come to a logical conclusion that I'm happy with. No matter how much I've told myself to like girls and to keep talking to Amanda and fix our relationship because that's my problem, the thought of Marcel still lingers and I wonder why I can't find any problems with him.

I've always grown up being told by most people that being gay is wrong and disgusting and everyone like that is going to hell, but there was always the rare others saying that it's normal and it's love and there's nothing we can do about it, and I wish there were more of those people because I feel obligated to hate myself and hate everyone that might be like me. I want to think of all the stereotypes and how I'm nothing like them and how I would have known earlier if this was really happening. I want to destroy the entire fucking idea but _I still want to kiss him_.

I romanticize it and him and how good it would feel, but one fucking label ruins everything. I don't want to be gay. I don't want to be a fag and I don't think kissing some guy is worth losing everyone I know. This could just be some confused phase I'm going through and acting on this shit will just make it worse. Kissing him will make it worse.

"We have to see if everything is ready for your birthday, so we'll only be gone for an hour or two." My mum smiles brightly, lines curving around her mouth below the plump of her cheeks and.

She's always been excited planning parties for my birthday and inviting everyone and making sure love my gift. Even if it's always formal and adult-like and I never like them as much as the parties I throw for myself, I still pretend like it's something I'm looking forward to. I don't think she'll be raising any more kids any time soon, so I let her be happy.

I'm nervous about Marcel being there. Even if my other friends are coming and the entire room will be filled with people, he'll still be singled out in my head because he's the only one I really give a shit about being there. I don't want to get stuck alone with him somewhere or accidentally say something to him in front of other people or act different around him with everyone else around, but I might anyway. I've been so used to having him with me and having our own sense of humour when we're alone that I barely know how to talk to him when we aren't the only ones in the room. I don't know if I should be acting differently or if there's something I can do to make my distraction less prominent.

"Okay," I say, once again having to step out of my thoughts just to speak properly. "Amanda might be over in a bit, is that alright?"

I always ask if she's alright with these things, even if she always says yes. If she said no, I'll still need some distraction to take my mind off of Marcel.

When my mum says yes and they leave, I'm already calling Amanda.

After our fight she got another apology out of me. I only wanted to get back together so I don't have to explain it to my parents when I un-invite her to my birthday and tell her not to come by on Christmas. I also get the benefit of sleeping with a girl whenever I can instead of thinking about other guys. I'd rather feel nothing than feel something for Marcel.

"Hi, Louis," she answers, her voice light and unfamiliarly happy. I hear people talking around her and walk back upstairs to my bedroom, a part of me hoping she's busy.

"Are you free to come over for a bit?" I ask, lying back down on my bed.

"Sorry, I'm having a pre-Christmas gather with the girls." She tells me. She usually isn't this happy talking to me, even if I did just apologize to her, but there's people around her so she needs to act like our relationship is still the paradigm of perfection. "I'll come by before your party tomorrow though. I want to give you your gift earlier."

I don't know what that means, but the sound of her voice saying it makes me uncomfortable.

"That's fine," I agree. I'm filled with more relief than I'm used to, because I'm usually the one cancelling on her. I still have to stress about whatever "gift" she's got to give me tomorrow.

"So I'll talk to you tomorrow?" She asks and I sigh.

"Yeah, sure."

" _I love you,_ " her singsong voice isn't as lovely as it should be, making my next words come out so robotically that I don't have to think about them having any meaning.

"I love you too," I reply, then hang up to let her get back to drinking wine with her friends or whatever the fuck they're doing.

My earlier thoughts are already starting to crawl back to me so I quickly pull out my phone again, getting someone here that isn't Marcel.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?" He says, his voice a little distant and distracted.

"You up to anything?" I ask, fiddling with the hem of my shirt.

"Is Marcel busy?" He jokes and my stomach clenches with nerves. He laughs it off but a heat wave washes over my body. "I'm joking, mate. I said I'd stop." Even if he is joking, it's the small hint that he think something is going on and that I spend so much time around Marcel. "My nan actually flew in today and there's like, fifty people in my house right now. I don't even know if I'm related to all of them, but I know I'll get into shit if I leave."

"So are you not coming by tomorrow?" I wonder, and start chewing at my bottom lip.

"Well you know how much I _love_ being around your family." He emphasizes his fake adoration of all my relatives and it eases me a little bit, even if my heart is still pounding. "Yeah, I'll be able to make it. See you then?"

"Yeah, sure."

When we hang up, I'm left to wish I was drowning because I ring the rest of my friends and they're all busy with family and I wonder where the fuck my family is so I can be miserable about them all asking about Amanda instead of itching to let myself think the way I want to.

Whether I want to or not, I'm already repeating to myself that I'm not gay, as if that would help. I still say it though, because if I was with Marcel, no one would understand and I don't even know if I'd understand the whole idea myself. I need a reason hate the idea of being with a guy but I can't come up with anything other than everyone hating me for it. I can't say it's because I've never had feelings for a guy or because they make me feel uncomfortable or like I'm forcing myself to be someone I'm not, because those are my reasons for not being with girls. When I think about guys, that's how I picture myself when I'm in a relationship, but I can't fucking stand having to tell someone or someone finding out on their own. I'll be going to hell and everyone would make sure I knew it. I could never walk around with someone I'm dating and not have another person stare at me like I'm disgusting.

I don't want that.

I want to be fucking happy with who I am and if I end up trying to be this other person, I'll be goddamn miserable. I can be happy with a girl if I want to be. I haven't even been with that many of them so I can't give up because it's how I expect the rest of my life to be. It's too damn early to be thinking of the rest of my life anyway. I'll probably live for decades, and I don't like thinking about marriage or babies or any other shit so I shouldn't like thinking about this. I don't like thinking about this.

The familiar suppression that I've put myself through comes back to me as quickly as it stops and I try to get myself to relax more, sitting comfortably on my bed with a pillow behind me so my back doesn't painfully dig into the headboard.

I picture Amanda on her knees like she's been before and the feeling of her lips moving against me, creating a friction between our skin. The feeling of her warm mouth against me gets me hard, but it takes too long to get any other feeling from it. Her brown eyes and her face and her naked body doesn't do much, and I think the only sense of pleasure I get from her is the idea of sex alone. She's rarely ever sexually attractive when we're together, and I always thought that was her fault but the brief thought of Marcel in her position makes my stomach twist and my entire body scatter with goosebumps.

I haven't thought about sex with guys. Even though I know what would happen, I don't _really_ know and I don't want to know because I'm scared it's just another thing that will seem right. Thinking about it stresses me right the fuck out and makes me uncomfortable, and that bit of anxiety is all I've gotten when it comes to doubting if I'm gay.

Some angelic and calming part of me pipes right up and assures me that I'm probably not ready for sex with guys yet and it probably takes time, because I've only been with girls, but I don't want to think that way. I've fucked girls and that's it. That's all I think about doing with other people. I couldn't be that comfortable having sex with a guy and I try to use the small fact to convince myself that sex is the whole point of your sexuality and if I can't fuck a dude, then there's no way in hell I could be gay.

But now I've got the thought instilled in my mind, and if I was gay I'd have the ability to want sex with a guy, so it lets my mind wander back to where this idea of sex came into play - where boys are on their knees for me instead of the girls.

Forcing the thoughts of women with me comes to a complete halt when my head is tainted with images of Marcel coming to see me when I'm home alone. We've been alone so much for studying and shit and just hanging out and even if I don't see him ever having the confidence to do it, but a part of me wants to give him the courage. I think of him kissing me so roughly my mouth tingles and that small action alone would be enough to make me uncomfortably hard. The thought of his lips pressing against mine _is_ enough to make me hard, because I'm pressing up against my trousers and in my head, Marcel's thick lips press to the base of my neck.

_Stop, stop, stop._

Even if I think of all the times I've been with Amanda, I'm still picturing him at the same time and his image overpowers hers so much I forget what she looks like. I have to grip myself through the painfully restricting fabric I wear, trying to relieve some pressure.

_Fuck it_.

No one is going to know and one fucking time shouldn't mean much because I need to let off steam before I implode.

I unzip my trousers and pull them off my hips along with my pants, the cool air lacing chills around each vertebra of my spine. I wrap my hand around myself and let everything I've tried not to think about be as it is. As it's supposed to be.

I allow myself to think of how his ample lips would look around me and how his cheeks would hollow out while he moves his head, making me feel things with an ability no amount of women possess. I've seen his mouth so many times, slowly shaping itself around words and saying my name and being bitten at nervously and traced by fingertips but I still haven't gotten the chance to know how it feels against me, but I have no doubts on it being anything but satisfactory. I envision him looking up at me with his green eyes, the barrier of his glasses removed so I can really see him - his eyelashes adjoining every time he blinks, providing an innocent look during such sinful actions. I would shamelessly beg him to never take his eyes off me and it's somehow enough to push me farther because _holy fuck_ nothing has felt better than this.

I can fantasize about his tongue around my tip and his hands gripping at my thighs and running along my length. It's not like he's ever done that with anyone before, but I don't give a shit because it wouldn't debilitate how good he feels. I pretend my own hand is his and my leg muscles tighten as pleasure leaks into my veins, coursing through my entire body.

"Fuck..." I moan, then bite on my tongue to keep quiet, even if I'm all alone. I tilt my head back and my eyes squeeze shut when all my attention is focused on him, even if he's no where near me. It feels so good and I know if this was actually happening it would feel even better. I'm addicted to how much adrenaline I have and how much it intensifies everything. He'd be so good for me and can make up for everything I've tried to be.

My leg muscles clench and my stomach flips. Images of him still flicker in my mind, his lips dropping open to moan my name, my fingers tangled in his thick hair. Something rises in my stomach and when I open my eyes, everything is blurry because I can't focus my attention on anything but how good thoughts of him are. The feeling crawls up my spine and makes my heart thrum faster, but without an ounce of panic. He's never forced panic on me and I wish I thought of this before so I could stop the racing thoughts of denial.

He sends me off the edge and a gritty moan escapes my lips, no matter how hard I bite down on my tongue. The image of him is burned on the insides of my eyelids and the thought is so good I don't want it to end. I can see him squeezing my thighs and I'm desperate to release into his mouth and feel the warmth of him around me the entire time.

I'm let undone and my entire body relaxes and I allow myself to keep thinking of him because it all still feels good and I haven't been able to feel this good-

_Stop_.

My eyes spring open and I don't think I've ever hated myself so much so fast.

The front door is opening and my parents must be back and they're going to want to talk about my birthday but I can't focus on that anymore because I can't pretend that didn't happen.

The satisfactory feeling quickly dissipates into an illness and I pull my pants back up, sitting on the edge of my bed. I'm going to pass out or stop breathing or start screaming any second and I think my parents can hear my thoughts from downstairs and they know what I did and they're going to say something.

There's an excruciating knot in my throat and my ribcage is going to collapse but I still sit and grip the edges of my mattress, even if my arms shake. Even if my body shakes. I'm about to punch something and feel the object split my skin and make my muscles throb and I think of myself doing it over and over but it doesn't mask him kissing me _over and over_.

I bury my face in my hands and pull at chucks of my hair and bite on my cheeks and refuse to cry. I refuse to be weak and I refuse to let anyone know.

If I go down to see either one of my parents, my mum will ask what's wrong and I can see my dad rolling his eyes and walking away because he couldn't be bothered. If I told them I was gay my mum would be in shock and only say something when my dad came back to punch some sense back into me or tell me how fucked up I am. He'd tell me how ill I make him and how he knew something was wrong with me and that I'd fuck something up again, no matter what accomplishments I have claimed to hold.

I keep fucking up and no matter who I envision telling, everyone I know is going to say I'm the person I've forced myself away from.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very happy birthday.

Songs for this chapter:

[BITE - Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLuWMOF6vOU)

[Dream - Birdy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDpaFQOIh00)

 

_When I look around, there's sunlight drowning the room so harshly my eyes throb. I squint and try to get used to it so I can see my surroundings, but in ways of sight it's all unfamiliar. As I become more conscious though, the sense of comfort gives the impression I've been here over an over again. I'm home._

_I close my eyes to get back to relaxing, not taking my easy breathing for granted. Everything is slow and serene and I keep resting even if it's the first time I've woken up without being exhausted. I don't think this could get any more comfortable until a hand rests on my back and fingertips brush against my shoulder blades, travelling down my spine and along each of my ribs and I don't want the person to stop. The warmth of them brings a smile across my lips and I open my eyes again, the blinding lights less sharp, so I can see the person touching me._

_Marcel has a book in his free hand and his glasses sit lower on the bridge of his nose than they usually are. He doesn't notice me looking at him, but his torso is left bare like mine, only smooth and free of imperfections. His face stays at ease, no shadows clouding his precise features. His arms leisurely lay at his sides and his chest swells every time he inhales, skin completely contrasting with the black ink I have embedded in my own. I think God's favourite angels must have carved him from the summer sun and brightest stars, making sure he exists at the same time I do so I can memorize every part of their creation._

_My head rests on his thighs and he sits above the blankets, only dressed a pair of plaid boxers, but I'm not complaining._

_I shift in my position and he lowers his book to get me in his view._

_A soft grin spreads across his face and he lifts his hand to my chin, pressing his thumb against my jaw. "You alright?" He asks, tracing my lips with his thumb._

_I don't have to think about lying. "I'm good," I say, closing my eyes again for a moment. I open them again so I can admire him and adore how he stares at me._

_"Are you waking up or are you going to keep staring at me like that?" He questions, a lazy smirk on his face._

_I chuckle and push myself up to sit beside him, blankets sliding down to my waist. I quickly notice the fabric brushes against my bare body and I'm about to question why I'm naked and in bed with him, but he kisses my cheek and I'm already distracted._

_"Good morning," he says with a smile, kissing me again when I turn towards him._

_"Good morning," I reply, letting him kiss me until he's the first to pull away._

_I rest my forehead on his soft chest and we sit alone, but there's images flickering through me of him moving above my body and repeating my name between heavy breaths and pressing kisses to my thighs. My mind is thick with the memories, concentrated on how dense and fulfilling it was. I'm only embarrassed for a second or two when I focus on the fact that I had sex with a guy, but he silently assures me that the thoughts are good so I don't question it. I let them be good so there can't be any bad._

_The room is immersed in his opulent laugh, melodically floating around us after I say something funny that I don't remember. The golden sun incandesces over his body and I'm looking up at him and how beautiful he is, positive that I'm kissing him even if we're too busy infecting each other with laughter. I don't think he knows how goddamn heavenly his smile is._

_"I'm in love with you," I say to him. The words arise out of complete honestly and through grins and he looks at me without an ounce of doubt, touching the sides of my face and kisses me yet again._

_"I love you," he replies, making my heart thrum in my chest so hard my ribcage rattles-_

The sun glares through the window in a way that burns my damn corneas and I sit up, taking deep breaths as I begin to separate my dreams from reality like I've been doing so often and too often. I barely have it figured out when I look at the empty, cold spot beside me that hasn't been slept in unless I roll over in the night. I'm flooded with disappointment, no matter how much I wish to be glad I didn't fuck a guy last night.

I use all my strength to throw my fist at the empty spot as if it will bring him here, or take this feeling away, but it only brings an ache in my chest and wells tears in my eyes.

_Something is fucking wrong with you._

_Stop thinking you're going to be with him._

_You're disgusting._

I sit up straighter, uselessly competing with myself to think badly of Marcel and be disinterested in him ever being here.

_You would be happier if he was with you, but you'd be hated if he was with you._

I want to move on with the day and proceed to be happy it's my birthday, even if I can't get numbly drunk to forget everything I did.

I touched myself to the thought of some other guy being with me, finding more pleasure thinking about him than I've ever had fucking my girlfriend and those other girls. Taking the actions back is fucking impossible along with going about my day like it never happened.

_You're gay. Admit it._

I run my fingers through my hair, pulling harshly at the roots in frustration. My chest builds up with heavy rocks and boulders and I need to fucking scream but it's not like I can say anything because I can't be gay and I can't like guys. Maybe I can ignore the thoughts and they'll go away then I'll be fine. It could be fucking temporary if I let it and everything will go back to the way it was because being with Amanda is good because I have to like girls. I have to or everyone will hate me. _I_ would hate myself, even if I'm already starting to.

I set my mind on thinking of how I felt the night I was with Amanda. I think of how good it felt but immediately, the thoughts make me tense and claustrophobic towards the damn air because I know it didn't feel good, but I can't change that. My thoughts of Amanda are so forced that my mind drifts to Marcel, even when I tried to focus on my girlfriend.

I think of his hands tangling together with mine and his hearty laugh and the way his green eyes irradiate when we're together. I think of the guilt that burned my insides when he cried because of me and how I shouldn't have been fucking around with him for so long. I think of his affection and intelligence and how soft his mouth looks _all the time_ , begging to be kissed.

Every one of these thoughts feel better than doing anything with Amanda.

I start to cry like a bitch and I don't care anymore because it finally hurts _not_ crying. My face is buried in my hands and I'm fucking terrified of everyone else and terrified of myself and terrified that Marcel doesn't want to be with me but every fear combined together makes me _not want to be gay_ even though I fucking know I am. I want to change it and feel something with girls but that's pretty much impossible. I want to be able to love Amanda but I can't do that either. There isn't anything to fix this _thing_ living inside me, making its own home. I want to do anything to make it go away, but I fucking can't because he's goddamn incredible compared to any other person I've ever met. He makes them look so fucking pointless, even if I chose to ignore that before.

I don't know how long I cry, but when I realise my cheeks have dried, my entire body is numb and sore.

 

Marcel's POV

My knee is bouncing, trying to release some of my nerves and excitement. I have a free hand over the large frame of Louis' gift so it doesn't get destroyed on the drive over, my eyes flickering towards it at every chance I get. 

I insanely debated on buying Louis another gift for Christmas since I didn't technically buy this one, but I thought it would seem weird and obsessive if I got him too much. We've barely liked each other up until a few weeks ago and I'd feel like a crazed girlfriend getting him a bunch of things he might not even like. I doubt he's bought me a Christmas gift, so this will be enough. Everyone is going to be giving him gifts tonight, so I shouldn't be left out of it.

I pull up to the hotel, getting the valet to park my car while I tuck the somewhat large item under my arm. When I go inside, I feel like the packed room stares at me with the gift and I just hope Louis likes it to make up for all the looks I get. My heart beats too fast for comfort while I stand there alone, everyone already in their groups of people they know, talking and laughing. I adjust my jacket and my cheeks get warm as I look around to find my parents or Louis somewhere.

I see Louis first - with all his friends - and hesitate going over, but I'd rather be around them than stand alone until someone comes and talks to me, because that might take longer. Louis is fine with me around them anyway and it's his birthday. I can't avoid him the entire night.

I walk to him and he notices me before I make it to his circle of friends, his eyes flickering to the people around him. I have to hold back a frown when I watch his nerves become more than just nerves covered up with a faint smile. He walks towards me, leaving his group and my stomach sinks while my thoughts taunt me, but I keep smiling so he doesn't see.

"Hey, glad you made it," he says, giving me a sort of half-hug I've seen him give his other friends before. I think it's the closest he's been to me before and my body heats at the contact of our bodies. He looks up at me and still seems oddly nervous, but I can't get my mind off the simple hug.

"I - uh - I got you a gift." I stutter, handing him the object. I know I'm blushing and I try not to be awkward, but majority of the time I can't help it. "Happy birthday-slash-Christmas."

He chuckles and takes the object from me. "Thank you," He replies, staring down at the wrapped object. "It's em... Big?" He laughs and I shrug.

"It's not much, don't get too excited." I tell him, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. I feel like he'll like it, but with my luck I'll be completely wrong and have to watch him fake a smile and do the whole "It's great, thanks" thing then change the subject quickly so he doesn't have to keep pretending.

"Can I open it now or do I have to wait?" He asks, smirk devilishly.

"You can open it now if you want." I say, scratching the back of my neck and look behind him to his group of friends. I know they've probably been looking at us this whole time and I'm pretty sure Louis doesn't want them to know we're friends. He's trying to be nice about it, but it might take a while to be comfortable with me. I don't know what to do about it, but I don't think I should be angry with him.

"Let's go somewhere else. I need a breather." He tells me, nudging his head to across the room. His hand rests on my back and my skin tingles as his warmth seeps beneath the fabric I wear. He removes it just as quickly and I shiver at the loss, but he still guides me over and gets me inside the kitchen. I remember him taking me here before to eat, when he thought it would be funny to pretend we weren't supposed to be there. As much as it made me panic, it was one of our good days that I bring to the front of my mind on my bad days.

He takes me to the back and we sit down at the same table with the same chairs in the same spot we were in a couple weeks ago.

"I really needed a break from everyone." He admits, letting out a deep sigh. He laughs it off and I smile, thinking too much about ways I could comfort him. "I don't think I'll ever hate the words 'happy birthday' more than I do today." I grin, but regret saying it to him when I did. "I can barely breathe with so many people in one room."

I'm surprised he waited for me to get away from everyone instead of taking one of his other friends or going alone. Maybe I just came at the right time.

"Well someone's going to come looking for you sooner or later. Open your gift." I say, smiling while my stomach twists nervously. He puts the object in his lap, tearing off the neat wrapping that took an unnecessary amount of time to put together. I fussed over it much longer than I should have, and he pulls it all away and tosses it to the side, flipping it over to the front.

His eyes widen when he looks down, a genuine expression of surprise spreading across his face. When he smiles it's contagious and relief is drowning me by the time his eyes make their way up to me again.

"When my mum and Robin first started dating, I was weird around him and he really wanted me to like him," I begin, fiddling with my hands in my lap as I concentrate on keeping an even voice. "So he took me to a football game in London and bought me one of the David Beckam jerseys they were selling outside the venue. I was like, six or seven, and they didn't have a small size so Robin bought me an adult one. It was huge, but I wore it anyway." Louis smiles over at me and makes it look like I'm not babbling as much as I thought. I'm put at ease when he stares at me like this. "Our seats were right above where all the players walk in and out and at the end of the game, I was waving to everyone and David Beckam saw me and yelled to toss the jersey down." I still find it hard to make eye contact in fear of stuttering my words, but I want to look at him because it's been a while since someone has payed attention to me like this. "I took it off and dropped it down to him. He borrowed a marker from someone and signed it before throwing it back up to me. I barely knew how important he was until I got older, but I still thought it was special. Now I've got it framed so I can give it to you."

Louis smiles bigger and I make a longer eye contact with him just to memorize the way the blue in his eyes amplify. "I feel shitty for taking this from you." He says softly. "Are you sure you want to give it to me?"

I nod, grinning too wide. I'm more happy that he likes it than I thought I would be. "I know how much you like football and if I didn't give it to you, it would sit in the bottom of my closet for another decade." I laugh, wiping my sweaty palms on my trousers. "Keep it. You'll appreciate it more."

He let's out a laugh that's almost musical and I hate that I wish I could record it for later.

"Thanks," he tells me. "I'm sure it's the best gift I've gotten from a friend."

I roll my eyes, expecting it to be a joke. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious," he insists, bringing himself to his feet. "It's an amazing gift."

I look to my feet so he can't see my prominent blushing. "You're welcome," I say, getting up with him.

He gives me another hug, but this time I think it lasts a little longer and his arms are wrapped completely around me, pressing into the curves of my back tightly. The warmth of his body adds to mine and does something to my stomach I can't explain. I let him hold me until he's the first to pull away, but I would have pulled him closer if I could.

"Someone's probably going to be looking for me." He says. "We should get back to everyone."

I nod in agreement even if I want to stay alone with him longer and shower him in gifts he'll love so he keeps hugging me. I can't do that, so he takes us back outside with the jersey under is arm. I follow his lead, going towards a table with other, unopened gifts from the people, and he puts the framed jersey with it all. I find it strange that he chose to open my gift before the others, but I tell myself it was apart of the whole getting-away-from-everyone thing.

After, he takes me to his group of friends and I'm not worried about him being embarrassed of me anymore. I don't want _them_ to end up embarrassing me in front of everyone and in front of Louis. I still have doubts, thinking he might not stand up for me if they ever did something again. I should have confidence in Louis, but it's hard to after he's broken my trust before. When we get there, they all awkwardly smile and say hi to me. It's a million times better than whispering to each other about me while I'm right in front of them, and a huge improvement from telling me what they think of me to my face. It makes me wonder if Louis told them to be nice to me because it's his birthday and he didn't want to keep fighting with them. I'm sure Louis would hate all of us if something happened.

I stand by Louis the whole time, and they get back to their conversations quickly. Amanda is attached to the other side of Louis and holds his hand or has her arm around his waist or kisses him whenever he looks in her direction. She follows him around more than I do, and almost goes to the toilet with him. She might have gone inside if he didn't tell her to stay behind with us. Whenever I'm around her, the more I dislike her. I don't understand how Louis could stay with someone who is so prominently obnoxious, obsessive, and selfish. It's not like she's making him happy, so I don't see any benefits in keeping her around.

"I still haven't given you your gift yet." Amanda purrs in Louis ear, pouting while she looks up at him, chin on his shoulder.

Louis doesn't look at her. Instead, he stares down at their tightly entangled fingers.

"Didn't you put it with the others? I can just open it later." He tells her, keeping his hard gaze forward.

I think I'm the only one that can hear their conversation. Even if I don't look like I'm listening, it's the only thing I'm paying attention to.

"But I want to be there when you open it." She says and my eyes flicker over to see her pulling at his hand. She looks like a child about to whine and cry if he says no.

Louis sighs and I watch him look around for an excuse to reject her, but says, "Sure," and tells all of us he'll be right back.

They go in the opposite direction of where Louis' gifts are and I frown, but turn back to everyone else when they're out of view. I act like I fit in with his friends while he's gone, but just listen to their conversations instead of participate in actually talking, but Louis and Amanda aren't even gone a minute when pocket buzzes and I pull out my phone with a text message from Louis.

 _*"Ring me in one minute."*_ It reads and I look around to see if they're still in the area. I can't see them anywhere.

 _*"Why?"*_  

He quickly replies with,  _*"Just do it and I'll tell you later."*_

I don't argue, already staring at the watch on my wrist to count down the sixty seconds. I'm relieved no one puts effort into trying to make me talk with them, so when the sixty seconds is up, I'm already ringing Louis.

It rings four times before he picks up.

"Hi, mum," he answers, his voice rushed and out of breath.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask him with a laugh, stepping away from the group of Louis' friends so they don't hear. It's not like they'll notice if I'm gone.

"Right now?" He goes on, and I can hear something moving around him but I can't tell what it is. "It can't wait?"

"You better have a damn good explanation," I tell him.

"I'll be there in a second," He finishes, hanging up quickly.

I look down at my phone and laugh again, going around to look for Louis. I head in the direction he left, wondering what the hell he was doing, but I bump into my mother before I spot him. She immediately starts talking and introducing me to people she's met or friends she knows, and I don't have a chance to escape, but I still anxiously search for Louis so he can give me some sort of justification. I might also want to see him again, but wanting an explanation for our conversation is a less obsessive excuse.

Minutes after I'm talking to one of my mums friends, trying to stop myself from stuttering when people begin to sing happy birthday and a large cake is being wheeled out on a trolley.

I look around for Louis and only see him when I move away from my mum and her friend, to a space in the loud and abundant crowd. Everyone forms a large circle around Louis and his four-layered cake and I watch him as he smiles as big as he can. I quickly pick out that it isn't as genuine as it could be, but I'm sure I'd be losing my mind if I had this many people staring and singing to me. Still, he does look happy, so I smile and keep my voice low as I sing to him, about to walk over until people start taking pictures. He still smiles as the flashes go off and is as appreciative as a teenager could be about a cake. I don't interrupt, staying off to the side while I look him look around at other people. Eventually, he spots me towering over those around me, and I watch his smile grow and lighten before he looks away.

We all clap and he blows out the seventeen candles on the top later at once, leaving me to chuckle by myself stupidly.

_No girlfriends this year._

While he starts cutting the cake, I go back to my mother so I don't stay alone. He's probably going to take a while and I don't want to hang around the whole time. Someone will probably take over for him sooner or later, but I see Johannah talking to my mum so I know I'll get scolded for being rude and not saying hi.

"Hello, Marcel," Johannah brings me in for a warm hug that's similar to Louis', but I can't enjoy it as much.

"Hi," I say while she smiles up at me, rubbing my arms.

"I heard you've applied to work at the hospital this summer." She says, reminding me of the decision my stomach warned me not to make. I still smile and nod because I have to act like it was the right thing to do.

"Yeah, it's a good start for medical school." I explain, giving myself another thing to stress about when I should be relaxing here. My mother grins at me proudly though, and it's one of the few reasons why I sent my transcript into the university.

We talk about school until I'm even more nervous than before about my decision, not getting a chance to breathe until Johannah leaves to make an announcement.

"May I have your attention?" Johannah speaks into a microphone, on the platform set up near the front of the room. She speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, but leaves out the rudeness others would have made sure to include. "I just want to say happy birthday again, to my wonderful son." She smiles fondly at Louis and he waves to her, which also lets me know where he is for later. "And I also want to thank everyone for being here to celebrate with us." She pauses as everyone applauds loudly, all eyes on either Louis or his mum. "The last thing we've got scheduled before everyone can continue drinking is Louis gift from his father and I. We thought we were going to save it for his 18th, but since he'll be away at school, we decided to give it to him this year."

Everyone is looking around for the gift, but no one sees it until double doors open at one end of the room and a brand new car rolls, sleek in black with a giant red bow stuck on the hood.

Louis is surprised and laughs, now standing with his mum and dad, arms around Johannah's shoulders. She smiles up at him like she couldn't be happier with his expression, while Troye just smiles and stands to the side, but I think the levels of happiness might be a normality.

I'm not shocked by the gift - a new car from his parents barely puts a dent in their pay cheques, like all the other's in this room. I'm happy that Louis is obviously enjoying it, even if he's already got a car. Any teenage guy would be ecstatic that they have a new toy, so I smile when I see him smile and everyone applauds again.

Louis hugs his parents and Johannah doesn't seem to stop smiling. I don't blame her and keep itching to see Louis and talk to him for a bit, but things keep getting in the way. I have to wait another half an hour before Louis gets away from other people to see me. I'm relieved, and happy that we'll get at least a few minutes together before someone is pulling away to talk to him again.

"Come on," he says, nudging his head to the side so I'd follow him. He starts walking and I quickly catch up to him, careful not to bump into the other people around us. "Did you get cake?" He asks, already walking up to the table of half-eaten desert.

"No. There were so many people and I thought I'd wait."

He takes two plates and hands me one with a smile. " _Bon appétit_." He says, then keeps walking across the room.

"Where are we going?" I ask, making sure I stay beside him so I don't get lost.

"Outside."

"But it's cold."

"But I'm suffocating in here," he chuckles, opening the doors to leave. We walk out into the lobby of the hotel, then go through a back door so we aren't in a parking lot.

The sky has gone tenebrous and the winter air bites at my skin uncomfortably, but I'll put up with it to be alone with Louis for a while. Cars pass on the street across from us, and the lights from the buildings are the only stars I can see right now, other than the ones that might be next to me.

Louis breathes in deeply, and an ashen cloud escapes his roseate lips when he exhales. His body leans against the side of the building and his shoulders drop as he lets himself relax, taking in as much of the fresh air as he can.

"I don't know how people can do shit like that all the time." He chuckles, plunging his fork into his piece of cake. "I'm exhausted and I've barely done anything."

I bite away my smile while I lean beside him, looking at the planted trees across from us so I don't get distracted with the way the amber light above us might make his skin look.

"So are you going to tell me about the phone call?" I ask, picking at the cake while he laughs again.

"Let's just say Amanda doesn't give the best blowjobs." He tells me, shrugging like he has to tell people this all the time.

I laugh quietly, my cheeks flushing. She was so insistent on giving him his "gift" and I don't know if I'm embarrassed for her or embarrassed that we're talking about it. Maybe I still can't get over the fact that Louis isn't into guys like I want him to be. Or I'm still sick of the way Amanda treats Louis and how unhappy he is with her.

"Just say it," he tells me and I look over at his grinning face, raising my eyebrows.

"What?"

"That whole best friend thing," he starts, beginning to mock my accent. " _If you're unhappy with her then she's not the right person for you. You shouldn't stay with someone who abuses you, even if she only hit you once. It's not right and you can find someone better-_ "

I scoff at the impression and don't want to like him that much.

"I do not sound like that," I deny.

"But you do," he presses, laughing with me and somehow making me warmer. The hairs on my arms still stand on end, but everything inside of me is hot so I'll tolerate it until he wants to go back in.

"Since when was I your best friend?" I ask, changing the subject even if I know he's going to change his statement. It was probably a mistake, but nice to hear. I'm happy with him just calling me his friend.

He hesitates, realising the two words went unnoticed until now. "Good friend." He corrects, taking another bite of his cake. "I don't have best friends."

I nod, unconvinced. "I'm right, though," I say, continuing with his impressionable speech. "She hasn't made you happy in a long time."

He nods knowingly and I attempt to discreetly move closer to him.

"I don't know what I'm doing half the damn time," he sighs, still smirking to remove any seriousness. "Maybe I'm in it for the sex. I don't think I'd last that long without sex, even if I don't really like having sex with her."

I look at him and hope that he listens to me talk because I want to help him.

"She convinces you to have sex with her?" I ask and he immediately shakes his head, but I don't think he's sure about his answer.

"No, it's not like she's fucking _raping me_ or something, but like, I just don't always want to have sex with her and sometimes she wants to so I just do whatever she wants. It's not a big deal."

I look at him and wonder if he's listening to his own words.

"Louis," I begin, and start to get genuinely concerned that what Amanda's been doing is much worse than he says and the situation is much worse than he thinks. "That's pretty damn close to rape. I don't know if it's completely there, but she's getting you to do things you don't want to do."

"It's not like that."

"Yes, it is," I say and I know he doesn't want to get serious but he doesn't even know how much she's manipulated him into being with her and thinking it's right. "Just think about it - if she was a guy and you were a girl, no one would approve of your relationship. I'm pretty sure someone would have called the cops on her by now."

He laughs and shakes his head, but when he looks at me he knows I'm not joking and his smile fades. He nods and sighs again, looking up at the ebony sky painted above us. He reminds me of the moon like this, pale skin illuminating under the light, eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks and curling up like craters. He's beautiful and he doesn't deserve to be unhappy.

"I'll find someone else sooner or later." He tells me, and I can tell this is starting to make him uncomfortable so I drop the subject. He's distracting me anyway, and I'm wondering if he tastes like cake and buttercream frosting. His tongue must be sweet and a heavy reminder is brought forth that we're completely alone out here. Maybe there'e someone else around the corner or across the street, and there's definitely people on the opposite side of the wall we lean against, but I'm only attentive to Louis, therefore convinced we're completely alone out here.

He's so close and stares at me lustfully, almost giving me the confidence to satisfy all my cravings. It could all be in my head, but the delusions are better than the reality we've had so I let them sink into my core. I can hear someone's heart beating and I'm sure it's my own because my pulse throbs in my neck, in beat to the clock in my head timing how long he looks at me. His eyes are focused on my face and I watch them drop to my lips, then my cheeks and eyes and forehead, observing my features as if the wind will blow them away. His cheeks are the colour of caramel in this lighting and I ache to push my thumbs across his cheekbones to fit myself in each dip. I think I'm going to tremble soon because my mind jumps from his face to images of him actually kissing me, holding our bodies together and moulding our lips together and pushing our hands together until _we are together_.

There's a sound in the distance that I'm unaware of, but it's loud enough to snap Louis out of the trance and look away with me.

Full of languish, I watch him easily act like it didn't happen like he's done before, clearing his throat while he keeps his eyes away from me. When he looks somewhere that isn't at me, I can feel myself hollowing as I become deprived of him.

"I can feel my nipples hardening. It's time to go back inside." Letting out a nervous laugh, he steps away from me to push open the door, inflating my body with a coldness deeper than the weather outside can hold.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas.

Songs for this chapter:

[Say When - The Fray](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNiNHsYqd40)

[WILD - Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdXNNveYOfU)

 

Louis' POV

Eighteen hours later and more than eighteen thousands wishes to get blacked out, I have yet another I-almost-kissed-him to think about. I received four fucking hours of sleep and unlike a decade ago, it wasn't willingly - to wait until I hear Father Christmas setting up the gifts. I'd sit up and play a video game before for a while, then close my eyes and think until I'm wide awake and staring at my ceiling like it will give me a damn answer to all my questions.

It's three A.M when the word "bisexual" comes into mind, even if I never thought that was an actual thing, just an excuse to fuck more people. I might like girls and guys. I might prefer guys, or maybe just Marcel, but it's reassuring to believe that I might still have a chance at liking girls. If I have a choice, I could be with a girl and make life way fucking easier. It could be harder if that meant never getting the chance to be with Marcel, though. If I got to be with him like I've obviously wanted for a while, maybe I'll be able to know what "easy" feels like.

Three AM seemed easier. I accepted myself more than I have in the past few months and didn't mind being gay then. Liking guys was almost better than liking girls because it felt so good to think about them. It felt good to think about Marcel and it would feel better to get the chance to kiss him. Having a relationship with him seemed possible then and nothing else mattered.

Then four AM came and I started to hate myself again. I couldn't stand the idea of being in a relationship with someone and have everyone around me disapprove of it. I hate that my dad and my relatives and my friends would look at me and tell me I'm going to hell and repeatedly say I'm a fag for the things I do. I don't want to have to deal with that. My dad already seems to hate me enough, putting pressure on me to be the best, and my happiness isn't the best in his eyes. My friends already call me a fag for being around Marcel and they'll end up doing it so often I won't remember what it's like to be sane.

Now it's 3 PM and all my relatives are crowded in my house as festive music slithers through the gaps between each body. It smells like cloves and cinnamon and mum set up mistletoe above the entrance to the dining room, which has lead to an unnecessary amount of kissing, also keeping my head spinning. Our tree has wrapped boxes underneath and is decorated with all the lights and ornaments my younger cousins picked out. Even if it looks like shit, everyone told them they were artists and they all believed them. I've been sitting down a lot and just trying to get through the rest of the day without blowing someone's head off.

I stare down at my phone and debate on ringing Marcel to stop by. I have his gift up in my bedroom and I know he'll like it and thank me too much for getting it, smiling so brightly that I'll memorize the way his lips curve upwards. I spent too long googling how to wrap the present since I've never had to do it by myself, going through half a roll of wrapping paper trying to do so. I'm sure he would have been forcing away his laughter if he watched, but I'd still rather have him here and everyone asking about how long we've known each other and what he'll be taking in school next year instead of Amanda.

She's coming over after her family is done their meal and she'll make sure everyone adores her. She'll dress her best and act her best, smiling her brightest until she's adored. She's already met most of my family anyway and they can't seem to get enough of her. A part of me doesn't want them to, but when she arrives, she's already got on her I-swear-I'm-loveable smile plastered across her lipsticked mouth.

"Hi," she says, giving me a hug and kiss that too exaggerated to be realistic. She's got a bag of boxed gifts in her hand, which I'm thankful for. "Happy Christmas."

I force my best smile and put the thoughts of Marcel away for now.

"Happy Christmas," I reply and take her hand. She walks in front of me eagerly, excited to impress my family instead of bother talking to me too long.

"Hi, Jay," she goes up to my mother and gives her a hug and is already more affectionate than when she walked through the door. "How are you?"

My mother smiles at her and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"I'm doing well. I'm so glad you got the chance to stop by." My mother squeezes her hand and looks down at her bag. "You didn't bring gifts, did you?"

Amanda's laugh is too high to be enjoyable. "I did," she says, content that she can pretend to be a generous person. "Have you opened yours already? I wouldn't want anyone left out, so we could do them later on."

I don't get how long she's planning on staying, but I don't want her to stay long. Later on tonight there's a bonfire that we have every year in this place all the kids go to slide down the hills during the day. It'll be too late for anyone younger to show up and we always do it at the bottom of the hill so the police can't see us if they drive by. We still drink, but it's usually not enough to get wasted. There's only ever a few of us that know about it, so we don't get people we can't stand to ruin it. Amanda might have said we were going together when I wasn't listening, but I sure as hell hope I don't have to spend more of the night with her. This alone is already too much.

"You're too kind," my mother treats her like she's her own child most of the time and when they're done talking, she comes back to me with a look in her eyes that screams "there's people here I haven't met, you better be introducing me" so I take her hand and go into the lounge where my aunt and uncle are sitting, along with their toddler.

"Hi," I say, already embarrassed that I have to do this. "This is my girlfriend, Amanda."

They both smile at her happily and Ethan gives her a grin missing a single tooth.

"It's so nice to meet you," my aunt says and they all shake hands formally.

"Likewise," Amanda is still smiling when she kneels down to Ethan. "When did you lose your tooth?"

He grins, showing off the empty space while he says, "Yesterday. Tooth Fairy left me a present."

I tap Amanda's shoulder and she looks up at me, impatient to talk to Ethan so my family will think she's good with kids and can be good enough to raise children with me or some bullshit. I've already decided I'm never having kids, so I don't have to worry about her being a mother.

"I'll be right back," I say. I've been around everyone for so long that I might drive myself insane, so I need a break with someone that will make me feel like I'm not losing my mind. "You're good here?"

She nods, letting me walk away as she looks back to Ethan.

I pass by my mum and dad and they frown, and I almost groan in complaint because they've already gotten me to stay down here as long as they could.

"I have to use the toilet. I'll be back." I lie, going upstairs even if there's a perfectly fine toilet downstairs. They don't question it, but I jog to my bedroom and close the door, locking in behind me.

It's quiet up here and I can barely hear the talking and music downstairs. I lie on my bed and take a few seconds to close my eyes and let the hammers on my temples come to a halt. I contemplate ringing him because he'll be happy right now and talk to me enough that I'll forget I've hated all of today, and it hasn't even a minute of thinking about him when I've already picked up my phone.

It rings long enough for me to second guess my decision, but he answers before I can hang up.

"Hello?" He says, and I can hear people talking around him.

"Hey, it's me," I tell him, expecting him to know who "me" is.

"Yeah, I know," he laughs lightly and I smile because it sounds like relief. "You're the only person I talk on the phone with."

I run my fingers through my hair and let myself breathe properly while I can. "Are you busy?" I ask. Even if Amanda is still over, I don't think she'd care if he stopped by. She'd have to be nice to him with my family over anyway.

"Um..." He trails off and I hear the voices behind him get quieter. "I have a bunch of family over right now. I can talk for a bit, but my mum will make me come back out in a few minutes."

I force away my disappointment, but I should have expected him to be busy before this. I'd like for him to drop everything to see me, but I doubt that's going to happen

"Could you come here later?" I ask, sounding too eager. "It doesn't have to be any time soon, but just whenever you're free."

"Yeah, sure," he agrees and I let out a heavy breath that's been pressing down on my shoulders. I'd probably be embarrassed as fuck if he said no, but it's not like he'd make me feel bad about asking. I'm fucking happy he's just talking to me. "Everyone will probably start leaving in an hour or two, so I could stop by then. My parents will probably want to come too."

I don't care if his parents are here. It's not like they'll be crowding us the entire time.

"That's fine," I say. "So I'll see you later then?"

"See you," he tells me and I smile to myself, staring at my ceiling and let him hang up before I do.

I think about his words far too long to let it do any good, and when I remember that my parents will come barging in here if I stay too long, I finally sit up. I find Amanda's gift to bring to her so my mum doesn't think I was purposely taking too long, and leave Marcel's on my chest of drawers for when he gets arrives.

I got Amanda a necklace that was too expensive to be so small and delicate, but she has so much jewellery and wears it so much so I don't know what else to get her. I think I've gotten her the same thing every year, not putting much thought into it because I don't tend to put much thought into anything I do for her. Marcel on the other hand, I spent too much time making sure he'd like what I got him. I remembered the things we would talk about and the things he's mentioned he never got around to buying for himself, so I'm far too excited to see him smiling at me.

When I bring Amanda's gift downstairs, I'm already looking at the clock and counting down the minutes to when Marcel gets here. I put Amanda's gift aside for later, telling myself Marcel will be here soon and I just have to get through the next hour or two of my family and witnessing Amanda sucking up to them, then I'm free.

She only stays for another hour, when all my relatives begin to leave. She probably doesn't want to be around me for too long, only caring about the new people she's sucked into her web of lies. I'm not even sure I know who she is anymore. When we first started dating, I liked being friends with her and I liked the attention she gave me, but that small bit of adoration we had for each other quickly faded. I came to realise that she only gave people attention when she wanted them in her life to adore her. She puts on different acts for different people and now that I'm bored with her, she's bored with me. We're together for show, and she only cares about our relationship is when I'm leaving her or when there's other people around. She doesn't want people to think we're anything less than perfect.

She's be expecting a gift so I take out the rectangular blue box, a silver ribbon wrapped around it. There's a little card with her name on it and after I walk her to the door, I place it in her hands.

"Here you go," I tell her, smiling and acting like I don't wish she would just leave.

She gasps dramatically and I let out a mechanical laugh while wondering what time it is. She lifts the lid of the box and looks down at the necklace in awe, then wraps her arms around my shoulders. I forgot she _really_ loves me when I buy her things.

"Thank you so much," she says. "It's so beautiful..."

She's probably wanting me to tell her it's because she's beautiful and I probably should have said it, but I don't. I just smile and think of the people that are so beautiful, the word doesn't begin to describe them.

"I knew you'd like it," I tell her, trying to be kind to her as I can with a distracted mind, but her phone starts to buzz.

"Your mum has your gift. I have to go, but are you going to the bonfire later?" She asks and I nod while she leans in to press a brief kiss against my lips. It's cold and her lips are too thin. They don't fit against me like they should.

"Alright, I'll see you there." She says and smiles, hugging my mum and dad before she goes too. "Bye!"

She walks out the door and the house is finally quiet, but the Christmas music still hums in the background of the next room. I turn to my mum and dad and can tell they're exhausted, but even if they were ready to go to sleep, I'd still want Marcel here.

"I told Marcel he could stop by with his parents, is that okay?"

"Of course," my mum answers, before my dad can say no.

I hear my ringtone go off in my pocket and I pull it out of my pocket like the text is from someone saying I won the lottery. When Marcel's name is on the screen, somehow it's better than winning the lottery.

"On my way," It reads, and the blood in my veins pumps so quickly I think they might burst.

"They'll be here soon," I tell my parents, keeping my voice even because I'm sure my dad would frown if I was too excited to have a guy come over.

I still have his gift in my bedroom, but I'll get it when he's here. He might be able to come up with me then we won't have to be around our parents while he opens it.

I'm sitting on the sofa impatiently, going back and forth between apps on my phone before I hear a car pulling into the driveway. I stand up ready to race to the door, but wait until the bell rings to answer. My mother is already at the door and I don't know where my dad left to, but I'm disappointed I won't be first to see Marcel.

Anne steps in and my mum hugs her, then Robin, then Marcel. He has to bend down a little ways to wrap his arms around my mum before standing tall, smiling with a healthy glow on each of his cheeks.

My breath hitches in my throat when they start to walk over because I'm barely paying attention to anyone else, even if Anne is coming up to me and I'm looking right at her. My mind is elsewhere - on thoughts of being close to him and kissing him. Marcel is still taking to my mum when Anne says she hopes I've had a good Christmas and gives me a warm hug, kissing my cheek. I shake Robin's hand and I manage to get through a short conversation with him - which I barely remember - until Marcel walks over because I can't pay attention anymore.

He doesn't have his dinner jacket on and just wears a blue dress shirt that's tucked into his black trousers, a single button undone around his neck. His sleeves are rolled up and his curly hair is disheveled like he's been running his fingers through it all day. His same glasses sit on the bridge of his nose and magnify his jade eyes. My mouth is dry and it hurts when I try to swallow, my entire body so hot that I don't know why I'm wearing so many layers.

"Hey," he says first. I don't know any other words so I just repeat his.

"Hey," I reply, licking my lips even if it doesn't wet them.

I'm losing my fucking mind and he hasn't even been here five minutes.

"How has your Christmas been?" He asks, so close to me that I can smell his cologne and have to stare at his eyes so I don't look anywhere else.

"Good," I answer, coughing to clear my throat. We've had a good time when I was normal around him, so I need to remember what normal is. "Yours?"

"Loud," he smiles at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. I can find my voice, but my mind is still racing so I should be able to come up with something to say.

"Did you want something to eat or drink?" I ask. "We've got so much stuff left over."

He shakes his head, lips still curved upwards while he presses his palm against his stomach. "I don't think I can eat anymore," he tells me. "I already ate so much."

I nod and walk him into the lounge with me. We sit on the sofa, right beside each other. There's barely any space between us and maybe this is the lack of sleep and all the thoughts about being gay, but my heart is slams against my ribcage and I want it to stop.

"Did you want to come to the bonfire tonight?" I ask him, rubbing my damp palms on my thighs.

"What bonfire?" He asks, looking down at me.

"Oh - we have one every year on Christmas." I explain, hoping my even breathing will calm me down and I can have a decent conversation with him without obsessing over the way his hair curls across his forehead. "After everyone is done with their families and stuff, all our friends go down to that sliding hill at the end of town for a bonfire. It's pretty fun. You should come."

He smiles and shrugs. "Are you going to be drinking?" He asks quietly, aware of our parents in the next room talking. After the question, I expect to do some convincing to get him to come. I usually have to when it comes to anything involving alcohol and my other friends. I wish I wasn't such a dick to him before, then we wouldn't have this problem. He would trust me easier and there would be no problems between us.

"We just have a few drinks," I say and he shrugs.

"Sure, I guess," he replies and my eyes widen. "What?"

"I didn't think you'd say yes," I laugh. "I usually have to convince you."

"Well it's not a loud party with people wasted out of their minds, is there?" He asks, and I shake my head, just happy he's going to be there with me. "I don't think it'll be too bad."

"Good," I tell him, somewhat relieved. Maybe I'm just glad I don't have to be around Amanda the whole time now.

"It's pretty cold out, is there somewhere we can go to get warm?" He asks and immediately, I stare at him and let his own words process in his head along with thinking about what's happening in the first place. When he realises what he's said, he buries his face in his hands and we both laugh.

"There's a huge fucking fire, idiot," I say and he blushes, still laughing at himself.

"I think that's the stupidest thing I've said all day." He admits, shaking his head.

"I think it's the stupidest thing you've said in your entire life." I say, grinning widely. He leans forward a bit and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, cheeks turning crimson now. I don't want him to be so shy around me, and I try not to embarrass him because of it, but I want to see him laughing too. "Bring a blanket though," I try to divert his attention away from my comment, hoping I didn't mortify him. Even if it's just us, I know how nervous he gets. "My mum would kill me if I took any of ours."

Still grinning, he nods "Sure."

"You should come pick me up to make it easier." I suggest, because if we go together then that means I won't be going with Amanda. I'll sit with him right away and not have to find a way of getting him near me.

He smirks and looks down at me, raising an eyebrow. "I see," he begins. "You invite me to hang out with you just to keep you warm and drive you so you can drink." I roll my eyes. "I guess we really aren't that great of friends after all." He continues, forcing away his smile. "You just use me to make your life easier."

"Bullshit," I deny and he let's out a laugh. "Don't be so insecure. I could make other people drive me around and get me blankets if I wanted to."

He pretends to be shocked and it's the most terrible acting I've ever seen, and I don't let it make me weak.

"So now I'm not even special enough to be used?" He jokes and I nudge him with my shoulder.

"Shut the fuck up, you know what I mean." I laugh, smiling widely.

He still grins and shrugs. "Sure," he agrees, still looking down at me. It makes my mind go back to where it was last night.

I don't trust myself around him because I know I could kiss him right now and I know he would kiss me back. I know it will be the perfect example of heaven and I won't want it to stop and in the moment nothing else will compare. What will happened after scares me the most, but he's so close and it's all I can think about. It's clouding anything else I might be able to think of and it makes me stare at him like he's a god.Our thighs are touching now and his body is warm and that's all I can let happen. It feels good to be touching him, but I don't know where we'll be if I take it too far.

Before I convince myself to do it, I have to look away.

When that happens, he changes the subject, but doesn't get me to think about something that doesn't involve him.

We sit on that sofa for another hour and I think about kissing him twice more before his parents say they need to head home and I almost say he can stay longer if he wants. I wouldn't at all mind if he was with me for the rest of the night, but I think I might be taking it too far. If we're alone without interruptions, I know I'll kiss him.

We stand up and the right side of my body goes cold, but I use all of my energy to ignore it.

"I can go home and change then I'll pick you up when you're ready." He says and I nod in agreement, walking him to the door while our parents say their goodbyes. I almost forget his present when he's halfway out the door and have to stop him.

"Wait - I - got you a gift. Just give me a second." I say, and he nods while he parents tell him they'll meet him in the car. I give Anne another hug before she leaves and say goodbye to Robin before jogging upstairs to grab the box, my palms sweaty again. I look at my shit wrapping job and judge it one more time before going back down, wishing I got the people at the store to wrap it for me.

"Here," I say, handing it to him. "I didn't want to leave you gift-less after you got me something yesterday."

He smiles and looks down at the box. "Did you wrap it yourself?" He teases and I scoff, but I'd wrap hundreds of other gifts this shitty if it means he could tease me about all of them and smile the entire time.

"Fuck off," I laugh and he grins, beginning to peel the paper away.

"I'll give you an A for effort." He comments and I smile, shaking my head while he crumples the wrapping in his hand and looks at the box underneath with a bigger smile.

" _How did you know?_ " He asks, gasping in a joking way as he lifts up the camera he told me he wanted a while ago.

"You told me you needed a new one and I just hoped someone else didn't get to it before I did."

"You shouldn't have spent so much." He replies and I roll my eyes.

"Don't be such a girl. We both know our parents are loaded and give us all money we want. This isn't going to bankrupt them." I say, and don't take my eyes off of his bright face as he opens the box to get a closer look at it. I want to watch him taking photos of things now, but don't shed too much light on the thought. "It's got a memory card and everything in it already. Just say thank you."

He smiled down at me and nods shyly. "Thank you so much. I'll be using it quite a lot." He says and turns it on. Music sets off before the screen lights up and I shouldn't be this excited and relieved that my friend likes the gift I got him. I give all my other friends gifts so this shouldn't be a big deal.

"Let me take a photo of you." He says and I laugh, shaking my head. I can't stand getting my photo taken.

"No way. I'll break the damn thing."

He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose and no, _I don't like it when he does that_. Of course I fucking don't.

"Don't be such a girl," he mocks and he lifts the camera in his hands, not giving me a choice. He points it towards me right as I laugh and lift my hand to cover the lens as the flash goes off, and Marcel laughs with me, but I don't think he got me. It's probably blurry, but he doesn't check to see. I'm nervous when I shouldn't be.

"Look. It's _actually_ still working."

"Wow. That's a first," I joke and his smile reminds me of being a kid again, so I don't look away.

He puts it back in the box and keeps it in his hand while he looks back at me.

"Thank you again," he repeats, hesitant in any actions. I don't know if he's about to hug me, but he's leaning in so I put my arms around him and allow it. It feels nice to have him close like this and I don't want to let go. He keeps holding me and I hope I'm not squeezing too tightly and making this too awkward. His body fits against mine and I don't want to let go, but I have to pull away eventually so I build up all my strength and do so. I probably held him much longer than I thought, but he's still warm when he eyes settle on me so I don't think he minds.

"I'll see you later."

"See you," I reply and he walks out the door, but looks back and wave. I still look at him until he shuts the car door and drives away.

 

Marcel's POV

I stare at the picture half the drive home and only put it away when my mum asks me what I'm looking at.

He looks like the idea of having me take his picture is ridiculous, but it's _beautiful_. His ocean eyes have a sparkle in them that lights up his entire body and blurs out the rest of the meaningless background. His smile is bigger than I remember as I try keeping my thoughts straight from that moment. He's a bit hazy because my hands were probably shaking, but he looks happy. I hope it's because of me, but I'll never ask.

As soon as I get home, I change out of my dinner clothes and pull on jeans and a thick jumper, looking around the house for a blanket and think too much about Louis and I under it.

I do nothing productive after that, except for thinking too much, but that never does any good. I just wait for Louis in my bedroom and hope my mobile rings sooner than it will.

I'm impatient and I look at my watch every thirty seconds to see how many minutes have passed, so when he finally texts me, I jump out of bed and get downstairs, telling my parents I'll be back later on tonight because I'll be with Louis. They like him enough to to let me go and are probably glad I finally have a friend. No one has ever been around me this much and after years of encouraging me to "get out there", it looks like I have. Louis is doing most of the work in the friendship though.

I get in my car and keep my music low as I drive to Louis', more excited to see him than when I was going with my parents. I might be driving a little to fast, but I get there quickly so I'm going to see Louis very quickly. As I park in Louis' driveway, I tell him I'm here and restlessly bounce my knee, humming along to the music until I see him come out.

He's got a black beanie propped on his head and a thick, black bomber jacket. His jeans are navy blue and rolled up at the bottoms and he jogs to my car from his house. When gets inside he rubs his hands together and sighs, a cloud of warm air flows out from between his lips.

"Fuck, it's cold out," he comments, exhaling on his fingertips.

I reach for the heat to turn it up form and he holds his hands by the vents and I wonder if there will be the day that I hold his hands to keep him warm.

"Did you bring a blanket?" He wonders and I reach into the back seat, handing it to him.

"Of course, your majesty," I tease and he takes it from me, holding it in his lap as I pull out of the driveway.

"What would I do without you?"

"Get hypothermia, I presume," I say and look over to see his smile.

"Of course," he agrees, keeping his eyes forward, looking as happy as he did in the photograph. He's like breathing fresh air and I'd come outside in the coldest weather if I got to feel him in my lungs.

We don't talk much during the drive. He tells me where to turn and occasionally starts up a conversation, but the radio gives off more sound. I don't mind. It gives me time to think about being close to him and how I can't figure out why I ever hated him.

I have to go down a small hill so no one sees my vehicle and I park where everyone else's cars are, getting out the same time Louis doesn't. He holds the blanket against his body, and I'm already chilled and stiff. He stays by me as we walk down to the large fire that has chairs set up all around. As we get closer, the heat of the flames presses against the surface of my cheeks and nose and it's so bright I have to squint.

Louis says hi to some people while I stay quiet and too soon, Amanda comes up to him. She places her mittened hands on his face and leans in to give him a kiss. When he smiles down at her and I have to look away so I can't see if he looks at her the way he can't look at me.

"Where do you want to sit?" He asks and I turn back around, thinking he's talking to me. He's still looking at Amanda and I swallow the uncomfortable lump growing in my throat, prepared to watch them walk away together and leave me to be the ride home.

"I've already got a seat set up." She tells him, sliding his hand around his waist to walk with him. I don't know if Louis wants me to follow and I almost think he really will leave me alone until he looks beside him, then behind to me, and waves at me to come forward. I'm relieved, even if he's with Amanda, and walk faster to catch up while she guides us around the roaring fire to a bench that is chained to the ground, probably installed by the town to be used by people that aren't drinking.

Amanda sits between Louis and I, and I'm unhappy about the separation, but the large blanket still manages to fit around three sets of shoulders. Because Louis isn't next to me, I expect him to talk to her the entire night, but he leans forward so I can stay within his view and talks to me, excluding her more often than not. His other friends come and sit with us for a while and lighten Amanda's mood until they leave to talk to someone else.

Louis doesn't drink much which I'm thankful for, but there's some guy I've never seen before who's wearing a Christmas hat and is an obnoxious lightweight that talks too loudly for anyone to appreciate his presence.

"Who is he?" I ask Louis. Amanda answers before he gets the chance to open his mouth.

"His names Eric," she tells me with a sigh that sounds more annoyed than relaxed. The more Louis ignores her, the more hostile she gets when she talks. "He doesn't go to school with us, but he manages to show up drunk everywhere."

I nod and wonder what you have to go through to need alcohol like that.

"I'm going to get a drink," Amanda stands up and I shiver at the small gust of wind she makes as she goes, exposing my sides.

She doesn't say if she's coming back or not and neither Louis or I question it. I hope she stays away with her other friends or finds somewhere better to be so I can stay with Louis.

"How pissed do you think she is?" I tease him and he laughs, moving closer to me. He adjusts the blankets around us and I feel so much warmer without Amanda between us.

"Very," he informs me. "I've gotten used to it."

He holds the two ends of the blanket in front of him with his beer bottle between his thighs and and I'm thankful for how it's wrapped around my body, even if my feet are frozen. Louis' body is comfortable in ways any other person would be uncomfortable. I hope for the impossible, wanting his arms around me more than the fabric, but I'll still be ecstatic if we stay glued together for the rest of the night. I'm not used to other people touching me, but the way he presses directly against my sides and thighs is so new that I want to get used to it.

"I can dump her for you if you'd like," I suggest, lightening the mood and making him let out a bellowing laugh.

"Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"Oh, I'm serious," I say honestly. I'd give anything to help him leave Amanda and finally be happy. "I can make you the happiest man alive."

"You already do, my dear," he replies jokingly, but I want to hear him say it over and over again.

I get closer to him so I can get as much of our bodies touching as possible. I'm already happier now that it's just the two of us, but Eric stumbles over and sits beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I can already smell the bitter alcohol on him and his eyes lazily look around at his surrounding.

"What's your name?" He asks me, leaning in too close.

I try not to smile so big. I don't like laughing at people, especially if they're right in front of me. He might not remember this though.

"Marcel," I answer and feel Louis nudge me gently.

"You shouldn't tell strangers your real name." He whispers and I can hear the smile in his voice. "He could be an axe murderer."

I wrinkle my nose and look down at him.

" _You_ could be an axe murderer for all I know." I fire back and he tilts his head back, smiling.

"Do you want to find out?" He asks and I scoff, shaking my head.

"Kill me quickly. The burden of being around you so much will end faster." I say and he shakes his head.

"Rude," he tells me, but is still content when he looks at me.

"You guys are the cutest couple," Eric buds in and we both hold back our laughter.

I half expect Louis to stand up and start beating the shit out of him, and I think the Louis that wasn't friends with me would. I don't think that person exists anymore and I'm forever thankful I don't have to deal with him.

"Cuter than half the damn couples we see at school." He agrees, smiling up at me. This might be the closest I'll ever get to being in a relationship with him, and I'll take it. But I still wish I could kiss him.

"'S adorable. I wish I could have that." Eric slurs and unstably stands up, pulling his hat from his head. He plops it on mine sloppily and I think it's about it fall off, but he pulls it down past my ears so it stays put. "There ya go."

He walks away and Louis and I are set into fits of laughter, leaning into each other and getting closer.

"Well we should have asked him to stay longer." Louis says, and his eyes flicker up to the hate. "Looks good on you, I'll have to admit. Gets you right in the Christmas spirit."

He adjusts it, having to lean forward. The blanket drops to our hips but once he's done and I don't bother to pick it up because I could rest my head on his shoulder like this. After he's done, he sits close to me again and pulls it back to our shoulders to keeps us warm and doesn't give me the chance. He smiles up at it, then at me, and I take my opportunity to stare at all his beautiful features I can't possibly get tired of. I can see the flicker of flames in his eyes, but the orange and yellow mixes with his natural blue I have easily grown to adore. I miss how natural he normally looks, but the fire adds something that reminds me of the heat in the pit of my stomach. I don't want to look at his mouth, but I do anyway because I tend to do that a lot lately. He's looking at me still, so I don't see a reason not to.

Kissing him has been thought about so much it's become a normal thing to want now. Even if I can't have him, I still crave it. He looks at me like he wants me and I want him just the same, but something keeps stopping him and it frustrates me to the point insanity. He'll look away and back away from me and change the subject and pretends like we should go about things normally, but I can't be normal when I think of kissing him that way. I've never kissed anyone, but he _deserves_ to be kissed. I want to properly wrap ourselves in something so rich and heavy that we won't need anything else.

This time, he isn't pulling away from me.

I hear longing in the way he sighs, warm and minty air sweeping across my skin. He breathes out and I breathe in with so much ease that it almost gives me enough confidence, but not quite enough. He doesn't lean away and just smiles, the closest thing to acceptance I've seen from him _ever_. There's no suppression or anger and it makes me like him more than I should.

I suddenly wish I brought my camera so I could have another picture of him happy like this, even if I don't think I'll forget about it. I don't know how to forget something that's beginning to flip my world in every direction possible.

I drop Louis off at home a few hours later and we keep laughing about things that don't make sense. It might be from the few drinks he had and I could just be outright ridiculous, but my stomach aches in all the right ways. He sounds like my favourite song on replay and by the end of the night I've got all the lyrics memorised. His beat matches to the sound of my heart thrumming in my ear and the melody dances across my veins and wraps around my brain like he's poisoning me with something so sweet and delicious that it can't do either of us any good.

When we get to his house, I don't want it to end and I'm still smiling on my drive back.

I've never been so convinced that he wants me in the ways I've wanted him when I think of him stares at me like I mean something. It might be all in my head and something I convince myself of so much I start to believe it's real. For all I know, this is just a game that I'll never win because he plays it all the time, but I don't know why he'd play games with a guy that's never meant anything. He's starting to give me a meaning and that partially scares me, but I still sit in my bed when I'm ready to sleep and stare at the white ceiling, wondering about the chances I might have in ever kissing him goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all for the lovely comments! I thought the slow progression of the relationship might be boring for some of you, but I'm glad you're enjoying it :)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man oh man, you're my best friend.

Songs for this chapter:

[I Will Be There - Odessa](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juzMD1GCAf8)

[Lion - Years & Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMCEC4p1ytM)

 

Louis' POV

"Why do you always do this?" Amanda yells, so angry that I won't be surprised if she starts ripping her hair out.

"I don't always do this!" I deny, already frustrated she's picking a fight over something so fucking ridiculous.

"Yes you do!" She insists, tears welling in her brown eyes. It doesn't make me care any more than I did when we started fighting. "Whenever we're together and you're friends are around, they're always more important than me." She wipes her eyes and I know it's true, but I don't say anything. "I knew you would get bored of me, I just didn't think you'd be like this about it."

"Don't say that," I groan, running my fingers through my hair wishing I knew how to counteract her words even if everything she says is completely true. I just need to be done with all the bullshit fighting and insecurities she seems to pull out of her sleeve. It's too much to handle and I never remember telling her I'd be there to take care of her problems.

"Do you even love me anymore?" She asks, still wiping her soaked eyes because it's not like she's going to stop crying any time soon.

My mind keeps repeating no as I think of how much I don't feel with her compared to others - compared to Marcel. The feelings I had for her have faded because this relationship is getting me nowhere anymore. I see absolutely no point of staying with her. My parents might be upset about it but they'll get over it soon enough because it's not like they can force me to be with someone. It's fucking sick and I've been putting up with this shit from Amanda for far too long to even think about loving her.

But I can't tell her that.

"Of course I do," I walk up to her, despite her earlier efforts to push me away. I wrap my arms around her small body and she doesn't pound at my chest or tell me she hates me this time, only cries against my chest. She's so helpless that I don't know why I'm putting any effort into making her happy. We always end up right where we are and whatever problems we thought we solve show up over and over again. I keep thinking of what Marcel has told me about all the damn abuse. I didn't even think it was an issue until he said it, and I should have been more aware of everything after that but still, I run my fingers through her hair in attempt to comfort her.

I'm a shitty person for treating her like I care, but I still don't get how _she_ can stay with me after it all. I don't know which one of us are more fucking stupid.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, kissing the top of her head. "I don't realise what I'm doing while I'm doing it." I do realise everything I do, but she'll cry harder if I say that.

"Why haven't you left me yet?" She asks, gripping onto my t-shirt roughly, making it tight against my skin. It's so claustrophobic in here and I need some air but she isn't going to give me any. If I'm not close to her she'll only bring up more things that we need to fight about, so I keep rubbing her back and wish I could feel more for her than I do. It would save her any upcoming heartache and pain if break up with her now, but something holds me back every time so I never find the chance.

"I'm not going to leave you," I assure, the words heavy on my tongue. They taste thickly of fabrication, but anything I true that I say will keep her here for hours and I just need some time alone. "I'm sorry I'm like that all the time and I'm trying hard to be better. People don't care about me like you do and it's just going to take some time getting used to." I've learned how to rephrase and twist the same excuses to sound different, and I think I'll keep doing it until she stops believing me. I'm surprised she hasn't by now, but I've gotten so good she hasn't figured it out. "I love you. I make a fuck ton of mistakes, but I really am sorry." I say, but she continues to sob like nothing I say will make a difference. Maybe it won't/

"I love you so much..." She says quietly - pained while trying to get the words out, but as much as I feel shitty, I want her to stop crying. "I don't know why this hurts so much."

She hasn't looked at me, but she doesn't let go of my body. She clings to me like I'm her oxygen and I always wondered if there's something going on she never told me. I don't think anyone could be this fucking _sad_ over something that seems so small.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, and my hands are still on her back so I can hear her breathing deeper.

She finally looks up at me, grey pools underneath her eyes that are traced with black flakes of makeup. She looks like she hasn't slept in days and like I've possibly ruined the rest of her life, so I wipe away the flecks and kiss her forehead.

"It'll be okay," I tell her, but I can't see us together in a few months time. I think we'll both be tired of going back and forth like this, but then again a few months ago I was saying the exact same thing, so we'll probably be in the same situation very soon.

"Do you promise?" She asks and I tell myself the question is fucking stupid and she shouldn't have asked it in the first place, but I'll answer with whatever she wants to hear.

"I promise."

She stays for another hour, ranting about what I've done wrong and how shitty I've made her feel and we fight again until she forces me into regret and pity and between the yelling and screaming and another round of _I hate_ _you's_ , we somehow we make up. I think too many times about how I could break up with her, free to be with Marcel, but she decides to forgive me too quickly. I'm telling her all the things about the relationship that isn't the same as it used to be - even if it was a mistake to get together in the first place - trying to get her to see that we shouldn't be together, but she only sees it as the things we need to fix. The things we should stay together to work on. After she's head-over-heels in love again, she wipes her tears and stands tall again, smiling at me brightly like we'll never fight again then get married and have kids. It's like nothing happened by the time she leaves.

Not even five minutes after she's gone, I take a deep breath and don't enjoy the silence as much as I thought. I'm forgetting about the fight and focused on having Marcel with me to forget the rest, because he tends to fill in the missing parts I never realised were gone in the first place. I don't debate or double-think why he's the first person I want here. He gets my mind off shit and any of my other friends will make it worse. They'll say all the wrong things, but Marcel smiles and he's already saying the right things.

"Hello?" He answers my call quickly, but I'm still impatient and want to be with him faster.

"What are you doing right now?" I'm chewing on the skin over my bottom lip and bouncing my knee, glad to hear silence around him. That means he can't be that busy and maybe he's free to be with me.

"I was enjoying a quiet house alone." He answers, but I can hear the smile in his voice and as I think about what his face looks like as he talks, misplaced pieces inside me are pushing their way back together.

"Is this an excuse so you don't have to hang out with me?" I joke, leaning back to rest against a pillow.

"Yes," he tells me and his words come out with a laughter that reminds me of pure euphoria. "You're a terrible person and I'm starting to get sick of you."

I grin and trace multiple circles on my knee, wondering if I was meant to be the person that thinks about laughter the way astrologists think about the stars and the planets. A few months ago I never would have thought I'd be this way, but I don't mind it.

"Well you don't have a choice. We're hanging out." I tell him, getting up to go to my car because I want to see him sooner than later.

His next sigh is dramatic and I bet he looks like _life_.

"Don't worry, I won't make you get up. I'll be at your place soon. Just make sure the front door is unlocked." I tell him, pulling a jacket over myself with the phone wedged between my ear and shoulder.

"Thank you for giving me a choice." He replies sarcastically. "I won't miss the silence at all."

I keep heading outside, smiling like I'm on drugs. I think I might be, because nothing has made me this damn happy in a long time.

"Good," I say, sliding into my new car that I've only driven once. The seats are stiff from the cold weather and put the keys into the ignition, turning the heat up. I don't bother to wait for it to warm up, too restless to stay at home. "Don't get too anxious while you wait. I promise I won't bail."

I hear his invigorating laugh, contagiously making me smile with him.

"Keep calm. I'll see you in a bit." I tell him and he chuckles once more before saying he'd see me soon and hanging up.

I pull out of my driveway and obsessively keep my phone on my lap like I'm waiting for him to text me saying how much I've been missed. I hope his parents aren't going to be back for a while because I know mine are getting home soon and I'd rather not be around anyone else but him. Amanda is like dealing with ten different people at once, so being with Marcel is going to be such a relief.

His front door is unlocked when I get there and I shove my car keys in my pocket, looking around downstairs and find everywhere empty. It's silent and I like his parents, but they're so nice that they'd want to talk for a while and I'd be waiting even longer two see Marcel. I still feel Amanda's words lingering in my head and they drive me mad, so the thoughts of him are the only thing keeping me grounded. I jog up to his bedroom and open his door, finding him in a bottle green jumper with his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose while he stares down at his laptop screen. He looks like peace, so I'm already more calm than I was with Amanda.

He looks over at me when I walk into the room, quickly closing his laptop, then slides it onto the desk beside his bed, looking back to me while he blushes.

"What were you doing?" I ask, raising my eyebrows with a smirk as I sit in his rolling chair. "Watching porn?"

I reach for the laptop to open it and his eyes go wide, trying to get it before I do. I don't think he's one to do that, but he's jumpy and embarrassed so it makes me wonder. There's something so fucking dynamic about him though and I can't get enough of it.

"No," he denies and I pull the laptop into my body before he gets the chance to take it from me. I open the screen before he can jump out of bed and lunge at me, and there's a word document open. I can see the paragraphs as I turn the chair so my back faces him. I'm eager to read it, but before I can read what it says, he reaches over my shoulders and pulls it away from me. His body is practically hugging me at first while we both laugh, but he gets it away from me in time.

"What the fuck was that?" I laugh and he closes the device again, placing it directly beside him so even if I tried to get it back, he could pull it away. I'm grinning from ear to ear and just expect him to say it was something for school, but I don't understand why he's so protective over it. It makes me want to read it more, even if I never read. I thought he'd be open with me about this sort of stuff, even if we haven't been friends for that long. He seems protective over a lot now that I think of it, and I'd like for him to tell me everything, but I'm sure he'd hate me if I pried him open. He'd think I was doing it to leave his wounds gaping or something.

"Nothing," he's blushing excessively and it only makes me grin wider, but I don't like that he isn't comfortable with me. I've been doing a proper job at not being a dick to him anymore, so I hope he trusts me soon enough. 

"So you're writing porn?" I ask, his face turning even more red. "What is it - erotic novels? Fifty Shades of Grey kind of shit?"

"Louis..." He complains, burying is face in his pillows. He's shy and I'm probably going to get it out of him sooner or later, but I can't be making him that uncomfortable because he's still smiling. "It's not like Fifty Shades of Grey."

"So you're not into that?" I prod, leaning back in his chair and watch him lay in embarrassment. He looks younger this way, and his laugh heavy and full of vitality.

"You're ridiculous," he tells me shyly, voice quiet while he shakes his head and laughs.

I pretend to look shocked as I ask, "So you _are_ into that?"

He sits up straighter, folding his arms across his chest while rolling his eyes, blossoms still growing on his cheeks.

" _No_ ," he denies, looking away from me nervously. I don't see there being any chance of him being bold enough to like whips and handcuffs after this, but I like to see him laugh about it. "It's the regular kind of writing. No erotic sex stuff."

"I _completely_ believe you," I tease and he groans, burying his face in his hands now.

"I don't write sex stories," he presses, doing his very best to deny all of it.

"Why not?" I question and he looks at me like I'm insane.

"Why does it matter?" He asks, biting his bottom lip so he can't grin so much. I want to see his happiness entirely so I wish he wouldn't hide it.

"I'm just wondering," I defend, holding my hands up. I'm blurting out my next question as if I've never heard of privacy, but that's something I tend to do a lot and never bothered fixing. "Do you even have sex?"

He looks at me in disbelief, still grinning and laughing.

"What kind of question is that?" He says, shaking his head.

"One that isn't being answered," I point out and he doesn't look at me, completely embarrassed. He's shy and awkward around most people he doesn't know well, but he's gorgeous and smiles more than a crescent moon and can joke around so much I feel like he's been with someone. He obviously hasn't been in a relationship since he's moved here, but he could have been with someone in the last placed he lived. I can't picture him being single for seventeen years. Someone had to have thought he deserved all the love they had to give.

"And it will stay unanswered," he informs me, licking his grinning lips. "It's an answer that isn't for you."

"Then who is it for?" I draw out, wiggling my eyebrows.

"No one," he claims, shrugging his shoulders.

"Just tell me," I assert, itching to find out now that he doesn't want to tell me.

Now that we're on the subject, I start thinking of something that isn't so playful and doesn't have to do much with laughing. In the front of my head is images of him hovering over someone, breathing heavily while they touch his bare chest and arms, moaning in a deep state of pleasure. I see him moulding into them and his body curving and his spine dipping down and his eyebrows furrowed together, pupils blown beneath. I don't see an actual person with him because him being with someone else is-

It's normal. He's supposed to be with other people because he shouldn't be with me. Guys aren't supposed to be together. I'm supposed to want to be with a girl and I'm taking this too far.

"If I tell you, do you promise you'll drop the entire subject?" He asks, eyes pleading that I'll say yes. He doesn't completely snap me out of my thoughts, because he's right here so I can't stop thinking about him altogether.

"I promise," I sigh, placing my elbows on my knees and lean forward for the bit of information that _I will not be jealous over_.

"No. Now how has Amanda been since last night?" His words are spoken quickly and pushed together so much that takes longer to process his answer.

" _No_?" I repeat, wide-eyed and knee-deep in an unexpected astonishment. There should be no relief in me, but there is. I tell myself I'm just shocked, but I'm _relieved_. "Why?"

He groans, pulling at his hair with bursting laughter. I should be moving on from the subject so I can think of something else, but I think his answer will be on replay for longer than I hope.

"You promised," he reminds me, but I'm used to everyone losing their virginity by our age. It's such a normal thing around me that I just assumed someone that looks like him would have gotten laid a while ago.

"Yeah, okay," I affirm, still surprised, but don't want to ask any more serious questions because he seems embarrassed about it. If any of my other friends were in his position, they would have lied and made something up, but I'm reassured now that he told me because I don't have anything to compete with or someone that I have to compare myself to all the time. I feel like if he ever let someone love them, it wouldn't be a cheap one night stand that ended in forgotten names and sneaking out in the middle of the night. He'd probably know them inside and out and remember the sound of their name always, right after they introduced themselves the first time.

There's a thick silence between us because I'm romanticising him too much when I should be talking.

I lighten the mood again and ask, "Is it because you write erotic novels?"

He grins and reaches behind himself, throwing a pillow in my direction.

"You're an arse," he remarks, shaking his head. His blush deepens once again and I wonder if there's a day that will come when he doesn't blush because he's comfortable with everything we talk about.

"Alright, alright," I ease off, hoping I didn't push it too far. "So what's the non-erotic novel about?"

He shrugs again and smiles subtly.

"Stuff," he answers and I sigh, swivelling back and forth in his chair, keeping my eyes on him and think about how good he looks in that colour of green.

"The more you don't tell me, the more I think it's book porn." I say. "I'll find your laptop some other time and get the story for myself."

"That's rude," he states jokingly. "But it's personal. Not very interesting."

"So like your diary?" I tease and he starts blushing again, beaming laughter and smiles. "Secrets you share with your very best friends at slumber parties?"

"Lou..." He groans again and the nickname is something no one has used on me before, because I've always hated people calling me things other than my full name. I don't think he notices he's said it, but I wouldn't mind at all if he said it again, so I don't point it out.

"Is it about me?" I ask and he shakes his head, darting his eyes away from me again.

"No," he denies, and at this point I can't tell if he's lying or nervous. If it was ever about me, I'd read every sentence until my eyes go dry.

"You're really not going to tell me?" I go on, sitting forward.

"I will not," he confirms, smiling innocently.

"Fine," I sigh, even if I'm not giving up. I mark it on my mental calendar to get it out of him at another date. "What did you do today?"

He gestures to his closed laptop that I'm still dying to open.

"Write my non-erotic novel," he tells me with a devilish grin. "What about you?"

He brings me back to my fight with Amanda and I tell him only so he can tell me to break up with her again. I want him to tell me that because if I break up with her, I'll be able to kiss him guilt-free. Maybe. I'm not used to someone saying I deserve better, and I like someone thinking I deserve better. There isn't anyone in my life who thinks I can do better or tells me that I can improve my life. I've never even had a best friend before, even if I have tons of friends. There's always been people to hang around with and people to get drunk with and people to tell me they love me, but never a best friend. He's the first.

I just hope I grow the balls to tell him.

"I fought with Amanda again," I say, the words bring back an uncomfortable déjà vu, reminding me that we've had this conversation too many times.

I hear him sigh deeply and I look at him so I don't go insane trying to talk about it. I need him to tell me to leave her even if I won't be leaving her. I want him to think he's better person to be in a relationship with because _he is_.

"Louis-" He starts, and this is going to get serious so I think I'll bug him once more tonight so I can see him laughing again.

"What happened to Lou?" I wonder, attempting to suppress the utter happiness I felt when he called me that.

He laughs, and my chest lightens. There isn't any burden when it comes to him.

"Whatever," he brushes the comment off and continues with the words I like hearing. "And you know what I'm going to say. I've said it before, and I'll keep telling you until you leave her."

I stand up, taking one of his pillows from beside his body and lay down at the foot of his bed. I want to be closer to him because we're just barely touching, the outer part of his thigh against my calf while I stare at his white ceiling.

"I was actually shitty to her this time." I admit, but I might be saying it so he can disagree and say I'm not a shitty person.

"Then what did you do?" He asks and I roll on my side so I can get a better look at him. There's a crease between his eyebrows and I don't think anyone has ever shown so much concern or care for me. I don't want it to end. Maybe I'll tell him everything so he can tell me I matter. He makes me feel like I matter.

"I'm a prick to her. I ignore her for my friends and don't even give a shit when I realise I'm doing it." I tell him, watching his tongue run across his bottom lip.

"That sounds like something Amanda would say." He informs me, and it is what she said, but that doesn't make it a lie.

"But I _am_ a dick to her," I chuckle. "I've spent more time with you during Christmas than with her. Whenever my friends are around, I talk to them more and I rarely ever give a shit if I make her cry, which I do. A lot of the time, actually."

"Do you ever feel bad for her?" He asks, a small smile on his face, even if I know he's serious.

"I kind of did today," I sigh, thinking of how fucking miserable I made her and how she wouldn't stop sobbing. I think she knows she deserves better than me, but she still tries to make our relationship last. "But just because she was crying. I think I wanted her to stop more than I wanted her to feel better. If she didn't cry in front of me, I wouldn't have felt bad."

He looks down at me for a few long seconds and I let him, taking note of how he doesn't just look at my eyes. He scans every feature on my face like he's looking for something, and I hope he found it.

"What are you doing with her?" He speaks quietly, his charming smile beginning to fade. He wants to be happy but it's like he still wants me to know he's being completely honest and wants me to be happy. I still refuse to take my eyes off him because I want to see him like this always. I wish he wasn't so beautiful.

"I don't know," I reply, itching to reach out and touch his thigh or knee or hand, and it's painfully hard to resist. I need his warmth, even if I can feel it in the way he looks at me. "But I do know that this won't last for another year. Even if we finish high school together, we'll be going off to uni and that will be enough to end it."

"So you're going to wait months to be happy?" He questions, genuinely concerned. He has no idea how happy he could make me right now. I wish I could tear down the barrier that's stopping him, because _I need him to_. I need the space between us to be gone because the air is too thick and we'd look so good together.

"I'm happy," I say, but I'm not happy with Amanda. I'm happy with him - resting my head on much arms as I take in his features. His jaw has a sharp curve to it and I can see his collarbones poking out of the collar of the jumper. His eyes are brighter next to the colour he wears and his lips are rouge, lonely without mine. I can't believe no one has taken the time to appreciate everything about him, but I don't want anyone else to look at him the way I am. No one would understand how he's simply complex in the best damn ways. They wouldn't give him the things he needs like I might be able to.

"No your not," he corrects my answer and I stifle a laugh, sitting up so I can see more of him.

"Oh well," I shrug, quickly deciding to change the topic before this gets too deep into the feelings I can't share with him. He hasn't smiled in a while and I want him to. "Come to Adam's on New Years."

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't go back to Amanda. I think he knows we're going too far, and I'm just glad he doesn't try to get inside me and know everything I'm feeling.

"Another party?" He questions, smiling at me again. "I don't think so..."

"They're fun," I insist and he wrinkles his nose, and I remember all the times he's done that before and how it lightens the weight on my shoulders.

"Not really."

"It was fun last time," I remind him. Even if Christmas wasn't exactly a party, I liked being that close to him and I'll like it for a long time.

"It was okay," he tells me, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

"Just come to this one. It's a new year. Next year is just screaming for you to come." I persist, and I think I'm staring more at his lips than his eyes now.

"It must not be very loud, because my subconscious is telling me otherwise." He jokes, leaning forward. We're closer now and it makes it hard to get my words out.

"It will be fun. I want you there."

The second that falls out of my mouth, my body goes hot because he's still close to me and _wanting him_ can lead to too much. I might fuck up everything.

"I mean-" I start to correct myself, then stop. I do want him there. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm not saying I want _him_. I just want him to be around me. "Never mind. Just be there."

He looks at me strangely, but doesn't say anything about it. I hope it's because he's not used to me wanting him at so many places. I pile him with places to go, even if I would enjoy staying alone with him more.

"How many parties do you go to?" He wonders, leaning back on his headboard.

"There's one like every weekend." I say.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but I obviously don't go to them all. Just the fun ones. Like this one." I'm convinced I'm the best person to get him into doing things, especially when I know he'll have fun. He gets uncomfortable around crowds and I hate it when he's uncomfortable, so I don't leave him alone for long or make him talk to people that embarrass him. I want him to have a good time.

"Louis..." He whines in a childlike way, and I don't think he realises how young he actually sounds.

" _Marcel..._ " I gently nudge at his knee, mocking his voice and making him laugh. "Just go. But I also plan on getting drunk so it would be really great if you drove me?"

He clutches his chest in mock-pain.

"Ouch," He complains. "You're using me again to can drink _again_?"

There's a wide grin on my face and I honestly hope he doesn't think that.

"Yes, and to make sure you don't give into peer pressure. You'll have an excuse not to drink, so I'm just helping out mankind."

He pulls a pillow in front of him, looking at me while he plays with the corner of it.

"You're an idiot," he declares. It looks like it's taking the utmost amount of strength for him to hold away his smile and _God_ , he's so satisfying.

"And you're obviously picking me up. I'll pay you back for gas or whatever." I suggest and he let's out a chuckle.

"You don't need to pay," he says and I shrug.

"Good. I probably wouldn't have anyway." I tease, but I don't want him to think I'm using him for a ride. If I was, I'd probably ask someone else. I want him there and I like it when he's there. I want my friends to like him more so we can all hang out, even if they still despise him right now. He's so likeable that I don't know how we weren't friends before. If I gave him a chance from the beginning I would have figured out my feelings for him much sooner.

It'll be New Years too. I could get a fresh start and hopefully not be a douchebag to Marcel like I was this year. I can start making cheesy resolutions to be better to people and better to myself. Maybe leave Amanda. Maybe kiss Marcel, and maybe not think of everyone hating me while it happens. Everyone else will be kissing that night, so the thought of standing in front of him while people look at clocks and count down each second of time that's last time is dense in my mind. Everyone around us might be too oblivious with excitement to notice, or preoccupied with their own kisses to be concerned with ours. They'd be living off of alcohol while I live off of him and I'd have my chance to do it and no one would see. I could start next year fresh and happy.

But that's only a hope.

By the time I leave later that night, he still hasn't told me what may or may not be written about me in his laptop, and I have the colour of his eyes while he laughs etched against every one of my brain cells, hoping he's feeling the same. I don't have anything making my feet drag as I walk. Each time he talked to be and told me things and laughed it's like I forgot anyone else existed. I was fucking _happy_ for more than an hour and it was because of someone else. It was because I was looking at someone else who cares about me and thinks I matter. I'm not leaving, regretting things I've said or done or wishing everything could be different.

I still can't kiss him before I go though, so I do the next best thing.

"You're my best friend," I confess, standing in his doorway. He's still sitting on his bed, cross-legged with his curls draping across his forehead in the right direction. He runs his fingers through it a lot and made me wonder if it's as soft as it looks.

After my words, he sits straighter and more attentive as he asks, "What?"

"You're my best friend. I've never had a best friend before." I repeat, leaning against the door frame. He's goddamn amazing and I didn't think having a best friend was such a big deal. I think he's my favourite person right now, so he needs to know.

"Oh," he replies, almost unsure of my answer. I don't think he's going to say any more until he grins at me, lively like the way things grow after being frozen all winter. "The only reason I'm saying this might be because you're the only friend I've had in a really long time, but you're my best friend too."

I don't get what the fuck is happening to me, but I've become someone who can't stop smiling and thinking about boys with emeralds in their eyes, and rose-petal lips that speak dulcet words to put my every wild thought at ease.

I nod and ready myself to leave when I don't want to go, instead curl up beside him to listen to his voice reverberate through stories and laughter the rest of the night.

"Okay," I tell him, and when his eyes give me significance all over again, I have to force myself to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Seeing all your comments probably make me more excited than I need to be but I can't wait for you to read everything that's coming up :)  
> All the love, M  
> ;)


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis thinks about five years.

Songs for this chapter:

[Heal - Tom Odell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9omSmQYVRSQ)

 

"Sam has abandoned me so how would you like to take a drive somewhere in my brand new birthday present?" I ask Marcel, obsessively ringing him as Sam just pulls out of the driveway. His car is still in view when Marcel answers, but I'm trying to teach myself that I can do that now because I'm the only one who knows how eager I am to be around Marcel.

"It's barely been a day," his laugh oscillates through my speaker, filling up my chest like fresh air. "Do you miss me that much?"

"Dreadfully." I tell him, speaking in a joking way when it's completely true. "I'm bored without you."

He chuckles again and I take a seat, letting myself be _me_ while I'm alone. It doesn't get to happen very often, so whenever I have a chance I take it as soon as possible.

"Well where would we even go?" He asks, but I've had this planned since I woke up this morning, and would have rung him sooner if Sam wasn't over. We haven't spent time alone for more than a short handful of hours, spaced apart throughout a few days. I want to be with him for a longer period of time without any interrupting parents or meaningless girlfriends.

"Have you ever been to Brighton?" I ask him. "It's an hour or two away."

"You want to take me to Brighton?" He asks, as if I'm joking. If he says no, my disappointment will probably be enough to get angry even if I don't want to let that happen. It's almost like I expect him to drop everything just to hang out with me, but he normally doesn't seem to be too busy when I ring him, so I don't feel too bad.

"Yeah. We won't stay long. I haven't been there in a while and I thought a day trip out of here would be fun." I say. I remember my mum and dad taking me when I was little and we'd go around to all the shops and they'd give me sweets from the cafés we'd stop at to eat. That seems like forever ago, and I don't see a family vacation happening any time soon. Mum and dad can barely look at each other anymore, let alone spend every day together or be seated together on an airplane.

"So we're just going to drive somewhere for the day?" He goes on, as if he's waiting for a punchline.

"Yes. It'll be fun and I'll come get you in thirty minutes." I tell him, hoping to be confident enough that he can't say no.

"But..." He trails off and the pit of my stomach sinks as I anticipate a 'no thanks' to come next. "Sure, yeah. That'll be fun" I can hear the smile in his words. "I'll see you soon."

My grin feels a metre wide and I'm still surprised that I've become a person overly excited to hang out with a friend. He's only like a friend and I act like if we're together enough he'll be with me the way I've wanted for weeks now.

"See you," I reply and hang up my phone before I continue on the conversation just to hear his voice. I go upstairs and keep my phone handy in case he gives me a ring to say he's ready early - which won't happen, but doesn't stop me from checking my messages every two minutes - then get everything I need, trying not to rush so I don't show up so early. I make sure I look presentable when I've never given a shit about what I look like in the past. I've always thrown on the nearest top when going somewhere with friends so this shouldn't be different, but I've never thought about kissing any of my other friends so this is _very_ different.

I know where I'm going to take him already, and I know a few people that live there that I've met from footie tournament or through my parents, but there isn't enough of them that we'd bump into each other walking around. Being isolated from this shitty town and all the people we know is greatly needed, and maybe we won't have to avoid the things that have been keeping us apart lately. I can be around him without anyone rolling their eyes and being douchebags about it because no one knows us, so I think about kissing him today but don't know if I can actually grow the balls to do it.

I leave early so I can get to Marcel's exactly thirty minutes later, jogging up to his front door instead of wasting time walking. I rock back on my heels after I knock, until his mum answers the door, smiling at me.

"Hi, Louis," she greets, stepping aside to let me in. "You're here for Marcel?"

"Yeah," I say, shivering as the warm air in the house hits my skin, travelling through each layer down to my bones. "We're going to Brighton for the day."

"He told me," she replies, still smiling as she shuts the door behind us. I'm already looking around in hopes to see Marcel. "It'll be good for him to get out of town. He hasn't been anywhere in a while."

"Well I'm glad to help," I tell her. I thought Marcel would have gone away with his parents a lot more than I do, but I guess they're just as busy as my parents, only happier. "I was hoping to leave during the break, I just didn't want to go alone-"

I hear Marcel coming down the stairs before I see him, and my words stop because all my attention goes to him. He wholehearted smile makes me shiver again, and I can't even try to stay nonchalant about it. He's got a thick cream coloured jumper on and I can see the collar of a white top underneath. He runs his fingers through his unruly hair before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, walking closer to me. He's dorky in an attractive way I never thought I'd enjoy and I only hope his mum doesn't notice how much I'm staring. I won't have to worry about anyone noticing my staring when we're alone, so I'm avid on leaving soon.

"You ready?" I ask once I find my voice. It's not very loud, but Marcel nods as he reaches in the closet beside me.

"Yeah," he answers, shrugging an olive coat over his shoulders and I don't want to like looking at him so much, but I'll never get tired of it. There's something different but familiar each time and it's so damn enthralling.

His mum asks when he'll come back, and he hesitates, looking towards me questionably because I haven't figured that part out yet.

"We'll be back before midnight unless we end up hating each other halfway through the trip and have to leave early." I tell her and she laughs, nodding. I don't think he could do much to make me hate him during the drive. If anything, he'll manage to captivate me even more if that's even fucking possible.

"Very optimistic, I see," she comments, placing her hand on my shoulder before we turn to the door. "Have fun."

"See you later," Marcel says and she presses her lips to each of his cheeks. His eyes flicker to me as he blushes, but I'm in awe of the cute embarrassment, smirking as she backs away. He's too kind to reject the caring endeavour, so he just smiles at her and looks away from me. I haven't gotten attention from my mum like that in a while but I've distanced myself from her for so long that she doesn't try anymore. Seeing him make Anne that happy makes me wonder what it's like to have that sort of relationship with my own parents.

We get into my car and Marcel has to push his seat back, laughing when I comment on his giraffe legs. My nerves make it a little difficult to act as I normally would, refuse to let it make things awkward during the drive. I've never been an awkward person now, so I don't want Marcel to think I am.

"Have you ever been to Brighton?" I ask him, pulling away from his house. The farther we get away, the more the relaxation from being alone with him sets in.

"I went once with my mum when I was younger. I haven't been there since, so I don't really remember much." He tells me, placing his hands on his thighs. I have to force my eyes to stay on the road.

"Do you have family there?" I wonder, trying to keep the conversation going so I don't have much time to over think being around him so much. I'm already glad we're alone so no one can see if I slip up and say something or do something.

"No, I think we just went for a holiday or something. We only stayed for about a week." He says.

"Your dad didn't come?" I ask and when he hesitates, I feel like I've invaded some personal space I should have stayed away from. I already know that Robin is his step-father, but I don't know the whole story about how and when.

"That was... Before my mum met Robin." He answers and I look over briefly, watching him fidget with his hands in his lap.

"Can I ask the story behind that or is it too personal?" I wonder. I want to know more about him, but I hate when he gets uncomfortable in front of me. I get that he isn't used to having many friends, but I want him to get used to having me around. I've been pretty good at not being a complete dick to him like I used to be and I'm not going to snap when my friends say they don't like him anymore. I've already admitted he's my best friend, so there can't be any turning back to start over again. I plan on sticking around for a while, so I hope he gets comfortable talking to me soon.

"It's personal, but I don't mind you asking." He chuckles, keeping his eyes on the road like I should be. It reminds me to pay attention to what I'm doing so we don't get run over. "You'd probably find out eventually."

"Are you sure?" I ask with a smile. "I'll live if you don't tell me."

I can picture his radiating grin, even if I'm not looking at him.

"I'll tell you anyway, and you can ask all the personal questions that satisfy you." He complies and I can hear the contentment in his voice. I'm glad he isn't so nervous talking to me, so I won't let myself interrupt as much as I would with someone else. "So my biological father's name is Sean. He married my mum only a year before she got pregnant with me, and I don't remember much from when he was around. Everything I do know is from what my mum told me."

"How old were you when you last saw him?" I wonder, already itching to know more of the story.

"Around four," he says. "She told me he was never really around. He was an alcoholic and he abused her a lot and called her down so much she believed him."

My eyes widen and I can't imagine his mum crying, timid and terrified of the person she's with. Whenever I see her, she's always confident and happy. I don't even think I've seen her frown, strength overruling anything negative. I guess Sean must have impacted that.

"Did he ever... Do that to you? Hit you?" I ask, the thought of someone doing that to Marcel while he was so young is enough to get me angry. I don't understand how people could be so fucking cruel, especially towards Marcel. He's was a damn kid and too innocent to deserve anything like that. No one deserves anything like that.

"No," he answers, immediately calming my nerves. "Apparently he tried to, but my mum stopped him."

"How did she put up with it for so long?" I wonder. The idea of people staying with the ones that treat them like shit blow my mind. I'd be gone in an instant if someone was ever that fucking awful to me.

"Have you ever read Perks of Being a Wallflower?" He asks, and all I can think of is the film poster I saw in the cinema once and how Amanda yapping on about how good it was, but don't get how it could relate to the subject.

"I don't read," I remind him and he laughs with me, nodding. I can't stay interested in a book for more than a minute. When we're reading in school, I almost fall asleep, even when someone else is reading to me.

"Well there's a quote that one of the people in the book say," he begins, and I listen to every word. "He tells the main character that we take the love we think we deserve."

I come to a stop light and look over at him, trying to understand what that even means. I was hoping to not make a complete fool out of myself, but he's smarter than me and takes note of my confusion, explaining it before I have to ask.

"It means that whenever we think badly of ourselves, we believe that all we'll ever get is something bad. We'll take the love that isn't so great, because we don't think we're good enough to deserve better." He clarifies and I nod, starting to keep up as I begin driving again. "He made my mum feel shitty and he was a shitty person, so she thought that's the best she was going to get. She took the love she thought she deserved."

"That's fucked up," I say, the words sound harsh, but true. She shouldn't have had to go through that.

"I agree," he responds. "But we also didn't have a lot of money and lived in the smallest house you can imagine. Mum did a lot to make it look nice with what we had, but she quit her job to raise me so it wasn't much. My dad obviously didn't go to work much with all the drinking either."

"Where did you live?" I wonder. He's said before that he moved around a lot, never really mentioning where.

"Cheshire. It was a small village - Holmes Chapel - it had like, 3,000 people, but that's where my mum's parents live too." He says. I picture a small house with flowers in the garden and chipped white paint that's slowly fading, innocently aged. My mind pictures it undamaged, contrasting everything that went on inside.

"Where did your mum used to work?" I continue.

"Well she raised money when she was younger and went to university in London to get a fashion degree. She minored in business too, and that's when she met Sean. But it was hard to get a job doing that stuff, so she moved back home with him and worked in restaurants and office buildings. I can't really remember what Sean did though." He says. He speaks calmly and it's improved so much from when he used to stammer his sentences nervously around me.

"So when did they split?" I wonder.

"When my mum found out he was cheating on her." He replies. "That's when we went to Brighton for a week. She wanted me to be away from Sean and be happy for a while because things were going to get messy. The divorce took a lot of money out of her so she had a lot of debt to pay off and we lived with my grandparents for a while until she saved enough money to get our own place. It was a flat with two bedrooms and we stayed there for about a year." I look over at him and he's smiling at a memory, even thought most of this has been dark and heavy. "The one thing I remember vividly from all of this is her getting a good job." He tells me. "She was sending applications everywhere, no matter how far away it was. She got an interview with Burberry in London and we flew there so she could talk to them and I stayed with one of her friends. She was so nervous, but I remember her smiling a lot, and she never smiled a lot back then. When she found out she got the job, she couldn't stop crying and I asked what was wrong, but she told me everything was going to be okay and that she was happy again." I can't help but smile at the soft memory. I don't think I'd normally feel any emotions if someone else was telling me this story, but I didn't think I'd feel a lot of things when it came to Marcel. "So we moved to London for a bit and that's when she met Robin. I was shy around him because I was used to having my mum around all the time, but I knew she was really happy with him. We were living in another flat, but this one was a little nicer than the last and we had more money for nicer things, mostly because Robin's family had money and he already had a really good job. My mum got promoted and started travelling a lot, taking me with her because she hadn't been with Robin enough to let me stay with him." I wonder how weird it would have been to go all these places and barely remember it all. He's probably met so many people and can't picture their faces anymore. "I was just old enough to start primary school, but we had to go to Manchester because she'd be spending most of her time there, and it was close to Holmes Chapel anyway. Robin came with us because their relationship was more serious, and he proposed to her a few months later. We stayed there the longest and moved into a new house that we could finally afford. They got married and we were all really happy. I was in school and liked to read a lot and liked the few friends I had. I got older and got into middle school and I didn't really have anybody, but I didn't mind." There's a hollowness in his voice that brings back lots of guilt from everything I did to him. He was alone for so long and I didn't do shit to help out. I made a joke out of making it worse. "A few years ago, she ended up being the CEO and that showered her in money, and they wanted her at the London headquarters more often. She didn't like it when I was in one of those schools with so many children, so we moved here with a permanent place so I could still go to school with smaller classes and such, and I was old enough to be alone when she had to leave or have Robin take care of me when he wasn't travelling either." The sound of his voice is calming and I can tell his story is coming to an end, even if I don't want it to. "Then I started school here and you were a douchebag to me for a year and some, making my life absolutely miserable."

His closing sentences leaves us in a long moment of staring at each other, and we both erupt with laughter at the sudden hostility. I couldn't take it seriously even if I should.

"I really am sorry for that," I say, once we've calmed down. My stomach still hurts and his cheeks are pink. "I don't know how I could have been such a douchebag, but I was. And I don't expect you to forgive me."

"I kind of do," he replies. "You've made up for quite a lot, so I can let it go until you decide to hate me again."

"I won't hate you," I deny. All I can see is the complete opposite happening, but I don't tell him that. I won't tell anyone. I don't think it would be that bad if I was gay. Marcel has made me happier more than anyone other damn person in my life, and even if no one else understands and my dad ends up hating me for it, Marcel will understand. We wouldn't even have to tell anyone.

"We'll see about that," he jokes and I reach over to punch his arm gently, keeping my other hand on the steering wheel.

"Watch it - I'm still trying to be a nice person." I grin, still staring at the icy road.

"You're okay," he teases and I roll my eyes.

A brief image flickers in my mind of us holding hands, resting them against the console between us and only letting go when I need to switch gears. I can almost feel the warmth of his palm against mine while I lean closer to him, and I'm sure that his fingers would drape over the back of my hand and press against my skin in all the right places. I enjoy the thought while I can, because soon enough I'll be forcing it away like I have before.

"So what about you?" He asks and I raise my eyebrows.

"Hmm?"

"We've been talking about my life story this entire time - is yours just as dramatic?" He wonders, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Not quite," I tell him. "I was born in London and moved here when I was two. My parents were already married before they had me and my mum is an artist and owns a studio here. She sells art there and my dad has his hotels in many places, so we've just stayed here."

"Hmm," he hums and I grin, sensing the sarcastic comment before it's made. "That absolutely tops my story. Your family should film some soap operas."

"Funny," I comment, wanting to ask him more so I can hear his voice for the rest of the trip, but I've already intruded enough today even if he says it was fine. It takes a shit ton of effort to keep quiet when I want to ask if he likes guys, and even more strength to not be relived if he said yes.

I like to think he sees me that way. It's raises my already-cocky confidence, which I probably don't need, but I don't think someone like him would ever want someone like me. He's got so much going for him that I can barely compare, but the privilege wouldn't be taken for granted. I know I've got the good-looking thing going quite strong, but that's probably not enough for him. He's going to need someone as smart as him and it'll take me a lifetime to achieve that.

"So what friends did you have in Cheshire?" I ask, picturing him with big glasses on his face and smiling brightly while he plays outside, the golden sun cascading over his innocence to give his figure a cadmium tinge. He was probably less clumsy when he was younger, running around when the weather was warm.

"I was really young then, but my mum still has pictures of me with this girl - her name is Amelia and she lived across the street from me." He tells me and I slowly itch towards my question indirectly.

"Was she your first love?" I tease and he's blushing again, biting on his plump bottom lip.

"I barely remember her, so I don't think so." He tells me, and it's fucking stupid how relieved I am.

He goes on to ask me about what I did was younger and I wish I had something more interesting to say. His stories are more interesting and I like hearing his voice more than my own, so I get him to talk more. He tells me how he lost one of his front teeth by hitting his mouth on the edge of his kitchen counter and had a bruised lip for two weeks. He tells me about his parents and when he started calling Robin "dad" and his mum cried and then talks about happy and finn memories so much that my cheeks hurt from laughing. It feels good to _feel_ again. I haven't been around people like this in a while and I miss it. I wish I had a best friend in my life like this sooner.

We get to Brighton too soon, already stopping off at a cafe to eat. They have a tall arrangement of mugs for sale when we walk in, and Marcel is looking at them before anything else.

"Do you have an obsession with mugs?" I ask and he grins, shrugging before he takes a deep blue one down from the shelf.

"I like this one," he shrugs and I don't question it because I secretly appreciate everything he does too much, gently laughing to myself as we walk to the counter.

We order food and find a table to wait for it, and I watch him fiddle with the straps on the bag they gave him when he talks to me, but his words are slowly and steady and he still smiles at me. He pays attention to me like I mean something and I think it's the first time I've ever prayed, but I want God to tell me that I mean something to him. I've never meant much to many people, as they only have a very underdeveloped view on who I am. Marcel knows more about me than I chose to tell most people, and I can only hope something doesn't fuck this up because I don't know what I'd do with myself if he wasn't around.

Someone comes our with our sandwiches and I thank them for the both of us as Marcel shyly looks away from the employee, flickering his eyes back up at them to smile. We keep eating and talking and when a worker asks how the food is, Marcel covers his mouth, face going scarlet as he has his mouthful. I answer for the both of us again before they walk away and we're both laughing. I don't bring it up so he isn't too embarrassed, and we stay there longer than I thought. I don't mind sitting and talking to him for a while, though. It's easy to lose track of time when he's around and I'm able to examine his face without other people thinking too much of it. No one pays attention to us, so I can pay attention. The three freckles on his right cheek are another a new thing I learn about his appearance and I'm sure there's so much more I haven't even thought about yet.

We go to pay for everything after we order more drinks while I tell Marcel about the stitches I got across my knee from someone else's cleats digging into my skin when I was younger. He's smiling and wrinkling his nose when I tell him how deep it was and when I over exaggerate, he pretends to gag and I laugh too hard.

I can feel eyes on us and I finally rip my eyes away from Marcel to see the girl across the counter grinning at us while she works with the espresso machine.

"How long have you two been together?" She wonders and my first instinct would usually be getting, but I look over at Marcel again and I think there might be a permanent blush on his cheeks that makes me wonder if he really wants to be with me, so I'm calm and she doesn't look like she hates us, so I'm happy.

"Uh - we're-" He begins, but I cut him off before he can deny it. She's smiling at us admirably and no one here knows us. They're never going to see us again.

"Five years," I say and Marcel gapes at me, speechless.

The girl's eyes widen, but there isn't a single look of disgust that I would expect from so many other people.

"Five?" She repeats, impressed with the lie. "Wow. Sometimes I think five months is a long time."

I bite my cheek so I don't laugh so hard, looking up at Marcel.

"I think we've gotten used to it." I say, taking a step closer to him just to see what it's like to date him. Maybe we're not as close as we could be and I might want to hold his hand and kiss him a little more to see what that's like too, but I can't go that far. I'd fucking terrify him.

She hands us our drinks in white cups and my head is still full with images of Marcel.

"Well congratulations on not murdering each other during that time," she regards, nodding her head. "I hope you have many more happy years."

Her acceptance is so unusual to me, but it's nice not to hear words that don't feel so damn cold all the time.

"Thank you very much," Marcel finally says, placing his free hand on my shoulder with his drink in the other. "I hope you get your five years and many more."

She laughs smoothly and says, "Thank you. Have a good day,"and we wave at her as we make our way out the door.

"I can't believe you said that," he tells me once we start walking down the pavement. He isn't offended or worried so I wonder if we could go around telling other people that for a while.

"Why not? She actually believed me." I shrug, still finding it amusing.

I wonder if there are more people like her, so if I ever get the chance to be with him we'll have the support we need to show each other off whenever we want. Five years seems insanely long to me, and I can never imagine being with a girl that long. I don't know how people can manage it. I don't even think I've been friends with people for that long before, but when I see my future in five years from now, I see Marcel with me. Even if he isn't anything more than a best friend, I hope he's there with me so we can take trips together and be happy without worrying what other people think of us.

"Louis Tomlinson, you never cease to amaze me." He speaks with a gleaming smile and the words dance their way down my spine.

I want him to repeat that over and over and never stop looking at me the way he does. Maybe we can stay here a little longer and I'll have the courage too kiss him and know what amazement feels, because he makes me wonder if I'd ever want five years of actual love. Not the fake stuff that I've pretended to do with Amanda, I want everything that's real. It would be raw with him, nothing left to shelter us so every ounce of life could crash down and change us for the rest of the time we have left together. I'd finally be able to breathe without suffocating and it would all be because of him.

"Thank you, dear," I joke and he rolls his eyes, continuing to walk beside me with our arms brushing whenever we take a step.

I think of Marcel talking about his mum and Robin and how they haven't fallen out of love since they've been together, despite the arguments they occasionally have. I've never seen a love that lasts with eye contact and quick kisses that protrude smiles and genuine  _I love you_ 's, but I at least want to hope five years of being best friends is possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is so much coming for you so quickly and I can't wait to post it all for you.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The biggest almost.

Songs for this chapter:

[Like Real People Do - Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms)

[All This Time - OneRepublic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIY_2t0ZKPU)

[Feel Real - Deptford Goth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0Dc8DtVxb0)

 

The urge to kiss Marcel tonight is so secure that my lips shake without his. If there is a way we get away from everyone, I think I might, so I hope we get the chance.

There's doubts chasing each other around in my head because I've grown up being told it's wrong. They make me feel like I shouldn't want to try, but each thought is minimal compared to what they used to be. I barely think about them anymore, and I don't think about them at all while I'm with Marcel, so if I stopped thinking sooner and everyone else's voices weren't in my head, I probably would have tried this ages ago. If everyone was like that girl in Brighton, there would have been nothing to stop me from trying the first time I thought of kissing him.

My mum is throwing her own party for New Year's Eve and my dad left town for something in London, even if he isn't supposed to be working right now. They fought before he went this morning and I was woken up with yelling, something I'm numbly accustomed to at this point. He still left her to be alone tonight and all their friends are downstairs right now, caterers setting out food and handing out champagne. I think she's lonely because of him and at times like this, I wish she would find someone else so she isn't treated so shitty all the time.

I'm leaving soon and my mum probably knows I'll be drinking, but she's too exhausted to fight with me so she doesn't force me to stay home, which I feel guilty about, but not enough to keep my away from my friends. Marcel is picking me up anyway and I'm sure she trusts him more than me, so I'll be in good hands for the rest of the night as I don't plan on leaving his side. I've already thought about how tonight can play out, obsessively going through each detail and hope that I don't get too drunk that I forget everything, but I might need a few drinks just to get the courage.

Before the party downstairs started, I thought I'd stay in my bedroom until Marcel comes to pick me up, but my mum is forcing me out to the black tie event to say hello to people I don't even like. I unimpressively stand out with my jeans and a black Killers t-shirt that allow my tattoos to peek out the short sleeves.

"Your uncle wanted to see you," she tells me, keeping her hand around my bicep like handcuffs as she brings me over.

"He couldn't have came upstairs? I look like shit and someone will say something-"

"You're too cool to be around adults now, or what?" My uncle Andy greets, putting his hand on my shoulder before bringing me in for a short hug that I would rather not participate in. I'm not fond of many people touching me, and the amount of forced hugging that goes on in my family is unnecessary. 

Andy is a little over ten years older than me, while acting the same age even if he could pass as my dad. He isn't aged by stress as much, but they've got the same blue eyes and hair colour and facial structure that people feel the need to comment on every time they're together. He hasn't got a wife and doesn't do the girlfriend thing, but still manages to bring a girl to meet our entire family whenever he comes over. We're all used to it at this point, and never bother remembering each blonde's name because it's not like we're ever going to see her again.

"I've got other things to do," I joke when he pulls away from me. "Old wankers like you can't keep up anymore."

He laughs at me, patting my back.

"So what better plans do you have?" He asks and my mum waves as she walks away, leaving us alone.

"I'm going to a friends for this party." I say and he raises his eyebrows, grinning. He probably couldn't care less if I get so drunk I don't remember my own name. If anything, he'd probably join me if I'd let him.

"Does your mother know?" He wonders and I chuckle, nodding while I try to sneak glances at the clock. Marcel won't be here any time soon, but I keep hoping he'll show up early so I don't have to be down here.

"Yes. I don't think she really cares." I shrug, but he scoff because we both know that isn't true.

"She's your mother. Of course she does." He denies. "She's going to be wondering if your drunk or drugged while on the brink of death until you get home."

I shake my head laughing. She worries too much, but I'm just not used to her being around to express it.

"I'll be fine," I insist. "Where's your girlfriend?"

He frowns, laughing at me. I already know what his answer is going to be, as I've been asking him this question for a few years now. It's never tiring.

"She's not my girlfriend," he's quick to deny it while I look around for any tall blonde that I don't recognise.

She stands out among the rest of my family, with her ankle-destroying shoes and a gold dress that should be classified as a second layer of skin. "Her name is Natalia."

"And how did you meet this lovely girl?" I joke. He probably doesn't remember because he just rolls his eyes at me as she looks towards us, flashing us her blinding row of teeth.

When he waves her over I'm surprised she's able to walk - my own feet almost cramp as I stare at hers. She's probably fantastic at ballet, basically on her tip-toes every day.

"This is my nephew, Louis," he introduces and she shakes my hand. Her manicured fingernails are long enough that I feel them at the back of my hand, causing chills to shoot down on my spine because I picture them scraping down a chalkboard. Her smile brightens as Andy places his hand on her back and I wish Marcel would come here early so I could get out of here sooner.

"It's so nice to meet you," she beams, talking to me as if I'm ten years younger than her when she's has to be only a few years older than me.

"You too," I reply shortly, looking around for a quick escape. "I've got to grab some stuff from upstairs before I go, so I'll see you later?"

Andy nods, understanding my sudden want to get away. I bet he's already planned his getaway from Natalia.

"Yeah," he agrees and I try to get upstairs to ring Marcel, but I'm stopped by my cousin, nan, and my aunt has the urge need to criticize my shirt and jeans.

I leave before anyone else can say something, my phone already in hand as I escape the noise. If I don't get out of here my mum is just going to make sure I'm downstairs, but I'd rather be with Marcel than around all the adults that are hold their noses too high and don't like the sight of me so unkept and casual at such a formal event.

"Hey, can you come get me early?" I ask, before Marcel even has the chance to say hello. "My entire family is downstairs and they've felt the need to comment on my awful casual attire."

His laugh is lively and I'm overjoyed it's the first thing I hear from him today. I think I would be satisfied with anything else too, but I hope I get to listen to his voice as many days as I can.

"Maybe I'll make you suffer a little longer." He jokes and I sit on the edge of my bed, looking at the birthday gift he got me. It's my favourite gift, and I've been given many things in my life.

"Maybe you should come save me," I suggest, smiling faintly so I don't sound as happy as I am.

"I guess I could help you out." He says, and I can hear him moving around. I think I would have drove to his place if he didn't come here. "I'm on my way."

"Thanks," I chuckle, and by the time I have my phone back in my pocket, I'm already grabbing a jumper from my closet and looking towards the window repeatedly. When teleportation becomes a thing, I know who I'll be expecting to see right beside me al the damn time.

The New Year's party at Adams last year was huge, and everyone stared at their clocks and shouted the last few seconds of the year. It's still blurry to me, fading in and out of the intoxicated memories, but I can clearly remember Amanda making sure she was my first kiss this year. I really fucking hope that changes if Marcel is there. I don't want to be so familiar with her cold lips like I am. I want to know how to fucking feel again, and I want to be able to do that with Marcel, so I hope she's miraculously ill and won't show up tonight.

When my phone rings, I tell him I'm coming down and he let's me know I have to walk a little farther because of all the cars in my driveway. I stay on the phone during the walk, complaining about the distance just to hear him laugh again. I see him sitting in his dim-lighted vehicle, greeted with a gentle smile and can still hear him laughing through my mobile. Shadows fill his dimples and curls sweep across his soft forehead and I'm looking forward to the rest of tonight if this is what I get to look at.

I get into the passenger's seat and the heat is turned up all the way, so I place my stiff hands near the vents.

"Are we going straight to Adam's?" He wonders, pulling out of my driveway.

"Yeah, there won't be very many people, but I need to get away from my house." I say, and he rests his hand on the console between us. I almost reach for it, but have to stop myself and clasp my hands in my lap because that's too fast. That isn't normal for us. Maybe I plan on kissing him tonight and that isn't normal for us either, but I hope all of these things will become routine for us eventually.

"Do you usually have that many people around during the holidays?" He wonders, keeping his eyes on the road instead of me for a change. I don't enjoy it as much.

"Yeah. Most of my family live here or near here, so they all just come in for parties and dinner and stuff," I explain, holding my hands tighter together. It becomes harder the more lonely his fingers look. "How long are you staying tonight?"

I know he had to leave early last time we went out, but I'm hoping his parents will let him stay a little longer because of the holidays, or as least until after midnight. All I need is until after midnight, but he'll probably end up like fucking Cinderella with my luck - running away before I get the chance at a fairytale ending no one knows about.

"My parents think I'm just at your house, so I don't think they really mind if I'm out later."

"So are you going to get rat-arsed then?" I ask, although I can't picture him getting drunk. I'd want to be around if he ever does, because he's so big and his goofy smile would get much bigger and I'd like to think he wouldn't be able to control himself and end up all over me.

"God, no," he denies, shaking his head. "I don't drink."

"Why not?" I press, used to everyone I know drinking. "It's good for the soul."

"And bad for the rest of you." He concludes, smiling softly.

"Are you worried you'll let out your darkest secrets?" I grin, as if there's something he's ever done wrong. He's the purest form of a human being I've seen in a while, so anything to taint him would bewilder me.

"Maybe I will," he jokes, terribly attempting to succumb his gleaming smile. "But if you ever found out, I'd have to kill you."

I roll my eyes, wishing I didn't find him so attractive like this.

"Then you'd have to live without me." I inform him. The words come out softer and more sincere than joking, and I almost backtrack and apologize. I have to remind myself my dad isn't here and my friends aren't here and no one can see us because we're alone. I don't have to hold back anymore.

He's laughing about something he said, and I don't know what it is, but I still laugh with him so he knows he isn't alone. We're alone together, and some might look at the situation with pity, but I have never been so relieved. I can let myself think he's beautiful and that I'd still like to kiss him and that there's a possibility he'll look at me the way I look at him. There aren't any restraints and I don't have to worry what other people might be thinking because they aren't around.

~*~

Marcel says with me the whole night again, even if he's met people that try to pull him away from me. I make sure he's by my side because every minute means we're getting closer to midnight and I don't want any other drunken person kissing him. The more I drink, the more I'm impatient to kiss him too so I easily get jealous when I see other people looking interested in him. I thought this might be the alcohol, but every drink only intensifies the thoughts I've had while sober.

Amanda is here, and I'm hoping she's too drunk to find me and kiss me when the time comes. Maybe she'll find some other guy and finally leave me, but that's only if I'm lucky. She's been trying to stay with me a lot of the time but I try to sneak off with other people as much as I can so I don't have to deal with all her neediness. It gets more annoying the more she's around and tries to distract me from Marcel, which never works. I have my mind set on trying to find a place for us to be alone when midnight hits.

"You're doing alright?" Marcel checks in. I think it's the third, maybe fourth time he's asked me tonight, but I like that he's making sure I'm okay. I've never had a friend do that before.

"Worry-wart," I tease, wanting to see him blush again.

"I'm just making sure," he tells me, and I grin at his shyness although I hope I can see the day where he's confident in everything he does, happy with every part of his disposition. There's lots of people around us though and he's different with them, not saying things he would if we were alone. I don't mind after a while. I like to believe he's himself around me.

"'S okay. It's cute, Marce," I tell him, making him laugh again and look to his feet. I don't over-think my honest words and his short nickname, beginning to walk again. I think we're close enough for nicknames now, and I feel like a girl in primary school every time he calls me _Lou_ so I'm just returning the favour.

When I move, the floor feels like it's moving beneath my feet and he has to put his hands on my shoulder to steady me.

"Woah," He chuckles heartily, anchoring me against him. I don't want to move. "Don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

"Never enough," I deny, stepping closer to him so I don't lose my ground again and so our bodies can press together.

He lets me walk beside him and I place my hand on the small of his back, over analyzing how well it fits there.

"It's almost midnight," he informs me, and I smile as I'm reminded of all my plans - until I hear what he has to say next. "Shouldn't you be looking for Amanda?"

I scrunch my nose, looking up at him and ask, "Why would I do that?"

"You aren't kissing her?"

"Why would I do that?" I laugh, my mind only set on kissing him. There's only a few more minutes of waiting then I don't have to wonder what he feels like anymore. There won't be a barrier constantly separating us and maybe it'll be good enough that we'll get to kiss over and over after tonight.

"She's your girlfriend," he reminds me, as if I forgot.

"I still don't want to kiss my girlfriend." I announce confidently, glad we're away from her right now. She'd be disappointed with everything I'm saying, but then again that would be enough for her to stay away from Marcel and I and I wouldn't have to keep avoiding her.

I start to think about where I can take Marcel so we can be alone.

"Then what are you going to do when everyone else gets their New Years kiss?" He wonders.

My hand is still on his back and I don't move it.

"I'll be getting mine," I tell him. He doesn't question it, but doesn't get the hint either. He's quiet for a second too long before looking at his phone screen and I think he's disappointed that I'd be kissing someone else, but I'm not.

"Well you've got five minutes," he says.

I look around and already see people doubling up, so I stay with my pair and make sure he doesn't leave. The music is still blaring and no matter how many times I thought I want to kiss him because I'm drunk, it's not. The hateful person I was taught to be still tries to push the wishes away, but those are the parts I am now trying to suppress. I've wanted to kiss him sober and I've wanted to kiss him drunk so no matter what state I'm in, I'm going to want to kiss him. This isn't some phase I can just brush off and push away anymore.

"Who are you kissing?" I ask mischievously, waiting for him to answer with my name.

But he turns to me and shrugs. We're in the area by the lounge, where everyone is looking at the clock on the wall and he doesn't say my name.

"No one," he answers.

"Why?" I interrogate, just because I want him to kiss me back.

"No one wants to kiss me," he replies innocently, and I scoff because that couldn't be more of a lie.

"Yeah right," I contradict. There's no way in hell I'm the only one that wants him like that. I guarantee he's met other people here tonight that would definitely kiss him if they got the chance.

"I'm serious," he says, shooting me a smile that puts all the starts in the sky. 

"Well who do _you_ want to kiss?" I go on, leading him towards my name.

He just shrugs again, looking down at me like I'm the only thing that matters.

"I don't know," he says and I think that's the biggest lie out of this whole conversation. He has to kiss me.

"You haven't got anyone in mind?" I ask, but yet again, he shrugs.

"I guess not," he answers, the smug grin still plastered across his beautiful coloured lips. Every time I move my eyes the room goes blurry, but he stays in focus so I forget about everything else.

"You're difficult," I say, getting him to laugh again. It sounds like heaven. "And stubborn."

"You are too," he replies, folding his arms across his chest. I can't stop staring at his mouth and I think he's stolen all my oxygen when people start counting down the time to midnight. It's so close and I'm so calm and so ready for him.

He looks around as if he's trying to find someone for me, but I've already found them.

"It's not as special if you don't kiss someone right at midnight." He says, my clueless idiot still smiling.

"I know," I agree, taking a step closer to him.

My hand is reaching for something and is only satisfied when it finds his, keeping him next to me. Our fingers lace together and he doesn't move away or look at me like this is weird. I never like holding hands with people but I like holding hands with him. This is so close and I can't see anything to stop it, but I'd have to be fucking insane not to want everything with him because nothing would feel real without him. Colours of red and blue and purple and gold flash across his features and the lights fall on his features, sharpening his jawline and cheekbones and curve of his nose. My eyes go to the dip in his collarbones and how they reach out to the round of his shoulders and the jumper he wears drapes across his torso in all the right ways but I still wonder what his skin feels like underneath. Everyone around us is still chanting the last few seconds to the new year and I wonder how many of them will end up kissing each other and have to worry about people hating them for what they've done. I can't see it with anybody in the room, but there has to be people like us, feeling like nothing and fucking _everything_ matters at once. There are lights flashing and loud noises and intoxicated some people are stumbling in the dark but Marcel has been the only light that matters tonight. Lots of people are laughing, voices seeming louder now that the music has come to a stop, but I can't stop looking at him.

" _Five_."

Their voices fade in and out, speaking the numbers that continuously reduce and bring me closer to the only thing I need.

" _Four_."

He still stares at me and holds my hand, close enough that I can feel his hot breath against my mouth, forcing electricity to set off between each of my nerves. It's happening so fast but I don't want it to go any slower.

" _Three...two...one..._ "

 _One_.

The people are chanting something different now but I'm far away from them, everything other than _him_ blurry and goddamn pointless. Thoughts of this happened so much it's like this isn't the first time, but my heart is racing like the only thing my lips have touched is air, deprived of human desire. I think about him like this is the only time I'm ever going to feel something. Like everything after him is going to be numb and like this is my only chance to experience happiness. His lips haven't changed since I thought of kissing him the first time, giving me the same comfort that his smiles and laughs do - igniting the sounds of life. Even if I can't think of anyone else right now, I honestly believe he's going to be the only one I'll ever be with after this.

I'm finally kissing him, but not kissing him at the same time because I'm being pulled away and stumbling back enough that I almost fall. When we separate, the lights go out and cold, damp hands are on the sides of my face. My lips don't come anywhere near Marcel's like I thought they would. I don't feel energy coursing through me the way it does when he looks at me or the adrenaline rush people get from climbing mountains and _I don't feel him_.

All I taste is Amanda's bitter, intoxicated breath on my tongue that pairs with a sloppy, unwanted kiss and familiar void I know too well.

 

Marcel's POV

I think I might vomit the second their lips touch, and I have to look away because I've never been in so much pain. He was supposed to kiss me because he wanted to kiss me. He was so close and his eyes were full of blue-stained lust and I could taste his hot breath as he exhaled. Before all of this, I watched him thinking of kissing me and allowing himself to like me. He slowly tore down the barriers that constantly separated us and held him back. He was always holding himself back, but tonight was our chance to change that. We were too late though, and midnight hit and my mouth was left deprived of him. Amanda was too quick and I regret ever trying. Something has always stopped him before, so I shouldn't have expected it to finally happen.

Still, I should have kissed him just a few seconds before. If I had the confidence, I think I would have. Thinking about it now, I'm aware of how stupid we are to kiss in front of so many people, but I could have ended the year kissing him and started a new year kissing him. Maybe if we were brave enough, there would be a possibility of us no longer lying about five years.

But the only thing I can rewind is my thoughts - replaying the scene over and over so I can't think of all the things I should have done differently. I have the rest of the year to think about all the things I could have done differently, just like last year and the year before that and the year before that. 

 

Louis' POV

When I get home, my mum is asleep and the caterers from their party are all gone, leaving the food they didn't use in the refrigerator. I grab another glass of the champagne even if I'm too drunk to walk straight, and sit down at the kitchen table. I'm dizzy from the drinks I've lost count of before, and the ground still moves beneath my feet but another can't hurt. It might wash the feeling of Amanda's mouth plastered against mine away or the way I tried to leave her to look for him, only noticing that he already left.

I think of him laughing, and the angelic thought wells tears in my eyes that don't stop burning. I wipe them away before more come and lean back in my seat, because it took seconds to change everything and an even shorter amount of time to go back where we started.

"Happy New Years, Marcel," I say, and down yet another glass in hopes of falling into a drunkenness so deep, I'll become numb enough forget how he feels.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is close to getting closer.

Songs for this chapter:

[Home - One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTH0C6qmET8)

[I'm A Mess - Ed Sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t2CR9qZRj0)

 

I can't stop thinking of him anymore and we haven't spoken in four days. No matter how many times I had the choice to text him or ring him just to hear his voice, I remember how close I was to kissing him and how much I wanted it and how it would have happened if no one got in the way. I don't understand how that would stop me because I know he would have let it happen, but I always put my phone away or talk to someone else before I call pull up his number.

He hasn't made the effort to talk to me either. We went from talking every day and to complete silence, and I thought I'd be angry at myself or at him, but I just regret that we didn't get enough time. We shouldn't have been in such an open space. I could have taken him upstairs and locked the door behind us then kissed him as much as I wanted for as long as I wanted and no one would have noticed. It would have been so good if no one was fucking there. It could have happened weeks ago if no one was fucking here. If I could have stopped thinking about my friends and my dad and how much I'd be losing, I could focus on everything I would gain.

It's the first day of school and I walk to PE with my uniform wrinkled and my hair dishevelled because waking up too late means I don't try putting in any effort.

When I walk into the gymnasium, everyone is already dressed and ready to go, all waiting for me.

My eyes immediately find Marcel's and I have to quickly look away before I get the temptation to leave class with him to put all my anger and frustration to rest.

"You're late, Louis," Mr. Walton scolds. "Do you have a slip?"

I keep walking without looking in his direction.

"No," I say and head into the changing rooms, ignoring the next thing he has to say.

I change slowly, no matter how many times he bangs on the door and yells at me. I repeatedly have to picture myself throwing my fist into his face to feel some relief, but even then that doesn't do much because only a wall is separating Marcel and I. I can talk to him today if I want to but everyone will be looking at us and I keep wondering if anyone saw us together.

When I go back out, they're all in the same spot as when I walked in. They look at me and even if I can't see him, and Marcel's eyes singe me to the core and completely expose me in front of the group.

"Now that Louis was late, we don't have much time in the remainder of class..."

I roll my eyes, leaning against the wall as he splits us into four teams for volleyball.

I'm glad Marcel won't be on mine to ask me what's wrong, sitting on the bench until his team plays. Sam is already talking to me about something, laughing about my pissy mood. It's too early to care, and two minutes into the game, we've already been yelled at to stop socializing. I try not to look over at Marcel so much because I know he'll be looking at me, and I'll only get more angry knowing I can't do anything about it and might never get to. Even if it ended up being fucking awful and I hated it, I'd make sure he wouldn't say something to someone. He could keep it a secret, or I'd tell people that he forced himself on me.

I internally groan at my own thoughts, having to repeatedly tell myself how fucked up that is. I already made his life hell and I shouldn't want to do it again, definitely not now.

"Sam's team off, Josh's team on," Mr. Walton yells and we all jog off to the long bench that Marcel still sits at.

I make sure to position myself away from him, but Sam leaves to the toilet and Trent is off with Becca and Adam is talking to Chelsea, so there is only two people between us. That's better than nothing, because being next to him again will only make me stare at him too long again and hold his hand without thinking about it and I might kiss him if we're alone. I might kiss him if we're not alone. The need to have him is too overwhelming and dangerous. With everybody around us, I don't know how to act so they don't notice anything. It's too risky even talking to him. They bug me enough as it is, and there's no way in hell they'd let it go if I was all flirty with him again.

We don't talk for the rest of class, but right after this we're going to be sitting directly next to each other and he'll have to be asking me what's wrong until the teacher starts the lesson. I take extra long getting back into my uniform and walk slowly to my locker, grabbing all my things even slower. I'm lethargic even if my mind is wild and I focus on all the times Marcel and I were close and all the times I could have kissed him and how many opportunities there was and how many times we were interrupted and I think about so much but time is moving too slow and I'm so _stuck_. I can't get out of the moments he was with me and I'm never going to be able to forget them because they're so vital you'd think they helped my heart beat. They impact everything I do and how I act when he looks at me and when he's close enough to touch.

I think so much that I'm late for class and have to grab a a slip from the office with my excuse on the way. Mr. Reynolds is already glaring at me when I walk into the door, and I hand him the piece of paper before I sit next to Marcel with a sigh.

I can feel his eyes on me again, but I don't look at him. I could reach out and hold his hand, but I can't do that in front of everyone. He's probably concerned and he probably thinks I'm pissed at him but I don't know how to look at him without looking at his mouth and his jaw and neck and think of how I held his hands because he remembers it more than I do. He experienced all of it while he was sober.

"What's wrong?" He whispers, as soon as Mr. Reynolds faces away from us and starts talking again.

"Nothing," I answers, staring straight ahead. My muscles tense as I try to keep my focus on the board, but I haven't heard his voice in so long and the deep sound makes my ribs shake.

"Really?" He wonders, soft and sincere. "You seemed... Off. In PE."

"I'm fine," I tell him, looking down at my hands to pick at a hangnail on my forefinger.

He sighs deeply.

"You're obviously not and you know you can talk to me about stuff, and I know that you won't say anything if I don't ask."

My words force themselves out before I can wonder if they're hurtful.

"If I say I'm fine, I'm fine." I snap, keeping my voice low, but the tone makes his eyes widen. He looks away, clearly unimpressed, but not at all shocked. He's too used to it and he was probably expecting it, or something similar.

"I thought you were done with that." He says, his jaw tight.

Guilt immediately sets in and I shake my head because I don't even mean to say shit like that to him and I had it under control until now. I thought avoiding him would push the anger away, but it's obviously made it worse. I don't like needing him this much and fuck, he deserves so much better but he's still my best friend. Even if he knows I tried to kiss him, he's still trying to be nice to me and I can't be a fucking prick to him.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, making the mistake of looking at him because I already know it's going to be hard to look away. He gets more beautiful every time I see him. "I didn't mean to. I'm just tired and it's the first day back in this shitty place, so I'd really rather not be here."

He hesitates, letting out a sigh before he can look back at me with a forgiveness I don't know what I'd do without. He breathes deeply and calmly and I keep looking at his eyes so I don't look at his mouth.

"What about the past few days? You haven't even tried talking to me since..." He trails off and his cheeks flush red. I'm thinking of what happened again and so is he because he clears his throat but I can't clear my mind of the memory. "Since New Years." He concludes, and I'm glad he didn't say anything that could leave me to think about that night over and over again.

"I've just been busy with stuff," I lie. I've been sitting in my bedroom avoiding everyone. "I had lots of family in and I was just spending time with them."

"Oh," He nods. "Yeah, I get it. That's fine."

He licks his lips and I can't peel my eyes away.

_His lips haven't changed since I thought of kissing him the first time, giving me the same comfort that his smiles and laughs do - igniting the sounds of life. Even if I can't think of anyone else right now, I honestly believe he's going to be the only one I'll ever be with after this._

The memory runs around in my head like it's happening all over again and I keep waiting for Amanda to pull me away.

"I should have let you know, I'm sorry." I say, feeling the need to make up for everything all over again. I hate making him feel shitty, but he shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.

"It's not a problem," he assures, resting his hands on his desk. I have to stop myself from taking one in my own and lacing our fingers together. "I just thought you were angry about something."

"Marcel?" Mr. Reynolds calls on him and his head snaps up. His face turns a deeper red, but I don't think any teacher at this school would care. That pisses me off more than anything else today because he's going to say something to Marcel that will embarrass him when he hasn't done anything wrong.

"Hmm?" He asks, fiddling with his fingers.

_My hand is reaching for something and is only satisfied when it finds his, keeping him next to me. Our fingers lace together and he doesn't move away or look at me like this is weird. I never like holding hands with people but I like holding hands with him._

I clasp my fingers together roughly, forcing them still. I want to hold his hand again and assure him that he's going to be fine because everyone is looking at him and I know he hates it.

"If you were paying attention to the front and not to Louis, you would have heard what I asked the class."

"I - um - I just-" he stammers and I bite the inside of my cheek so I don't say anything.

"Finals are coming up and if you aren't paying attention, it will reflect on your marks."

"I didn't mean to - we were just-"

"He's got the highest mark in this class." I interrupt. If no one will stand up for him, I don't see why I can't. All the teachers know I'm a prick anyway, so being sent out of class one more time isn't a big deal. "The only thing that could possibly reflect badly on his marks would be a teacher who hasn't been doing a proper job."

Some people around the room laugh, so I stay smug with myself.

"Excuse me?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest.

"It's true." I don't hesitate and I'm more comfortable talking when I see Marcel's shoulders relax. "He's going to be valedictorian this year and everyone knows it, even if we haven't got our marks finalized. Even if you decide to teach us the material wrong, he'll still do better than any one of us in this room."

"I think it's time for you to head to Mrs. Wallace. She can deal with you there." He tells me, but I don't move.

"I'll only go if he gets the answer wrong." I say, leaning back in my chair with my arms folded comfortably across my chest. I don't have a doubt that he'll get it wrong because if there's anything I know, it's that Marcel knows everything.

"What?" He asks and I almost roll my eyes.

"Ask Marcel the question again, and if he gets it wrong, I'll leave. If he doesn't, I'll stay because you're obviously wrong about his intellectual capacity." I say with a wild grin and look to Marcel, who is trying to hide his smile.

He'll bug me about "intellectual capacity" later and I won't mind because that means we'll be laughing together again.

Mr. Reynolds looks to Marcel again, asking the question with an expression that is prepared for him to fail.

"I'm rooting for you, don't fuck up." I whisper and he chuckles to himself before clearing his throat.

His confidence is probably shot to hell when he answers, but Mr. Reynolds sighs and glowers at me because he has it right. Teachers are always pissed when they're wrong.

"Anything else from you, and I'll be calling someone to deal with it." He says, dropping the subject quickly while everyone snickers and laughs.

I bump elbows with Marcel and he looks over at me with a grin.

"Well done," I congratulate and he shrugs, looking to the front.

" _Pay attention_ ," he whispers and I chuckle quietly. He's still blushing and seeing him like this makes me want to kiss him all over again, but I tear my eyes away so I don't. Even if I can physically see him, every memory of a few days ago is etched in my mind until the end of class like it will be for the rest of the day and the week and the month, unless I kiss him before then. I wonder when our next chance will be and I hope it's soon because I'd rather lose my limbs that lose my mind over wondering about what could happen.

When he speaks to me again, his deprivation is gone, even if it was barely under an hour.

"I can't believe you actually said that to him." He says with a proud smile and I laugh.

"It wasn't a big deal," I reply. "People shouldn't treat you like that. Especially when it's fucking stupid and over something that wasn't even wrong."

"I guess questioning my _intellectual capacity_ wasn't very smart of him, was it?" He jokes, walking out of the room with me.

I shake my head with a smile and hope we'll be alone so I can stare at his smile without other people staring at me,

"I can actually sound pretty smart sometimes, believe it or not." I insist and he nods in agreement.

"I believe you," he says. "You're a smart person, but-"

" _-I don't apply myself and take the time and effort to put in into my work_." I quote. I've heard people say it so many times, so I won't ever forget.

"I was actually going to say you just use your smarts for other things." He says matter-of-factly.

I raise my eyebrows at the words that have gone unheard up until now.

"What?" I ask and he laughs. We're walking slower than most people, and if I was anyone behind us, I'd be ready to rip our heads off. Since we're not, that means we have more time to talk before our next lesson, so I'll walk as slow as I want.

"You're smart, but you don't use it for your school subjects. You use it for things like football and communication." He tells me, and I still don't get what the hell that means.

"How am I smart while I play football and talk to people?" I chuckle. We get to my locker and I stop, putting my books inside and taking out new ones.

"Like today, if you weren't smart, you wouldn't have been able to prove Mr. Reynolds wrong and get him to ask me that question again. You were so smart you made him look stupid." He laughs and his smile is brighter than the sun outside. "And in football, you wouldn't be able to know your position or what the team needs to do to be better or how to even kick a ball in the right direction if you weren't smart."

I close my locker and look to him, suppressing my grin so much my cheeks hurt and give up.

"You make me feel so much better about myself." I inform him. "I guess I'll keep you around for a little longer."

He blushes again and it's so good to have him back. I shouldn't have avoided him for so long.

"I'm alright." He shrugs and I roll my eyes, walking him to his locker. We'll probably be late for next class if we keep doing this. I don't mind, though. I've been without him so much that I want to regain the days we lost. It sounds goddamn obsessive, but I don't want to take advantage of any chance we have.

"Speaking of school," I begin, already finding more ways for us to be together. "Can we still do that studying thing after schools sometime? Football will be starting up soon, but we've got finals and I'm probably going to need a lot of help."

"Well since I've obviously a great person to be around, I don't see why not." He jokes and I scoff, noticing the amount of people in the halls has thinned out. My mind wanders to the things that would happen if the corridor was empty.

I don't think of it too long, changing the subject so I can control myself.

"Whatever. Let's get to class before I'm late again."

~*~

I stand at his front door and knock, but there isn't an answer. I'm about to freeze my arse off and my hands are going numb trying to pull out my phone and dial his number. The wind is icy dry and I think my eyelashes might fix together when I blink.

"Where are you?" I ask before he can say anything.

"Uh - at my house?" He replies with a laugh. "Are you on your way?"

"I'm outside, dickhead."

I hear him laughing, but no footsteps come close to the door.

"Sorry. I'm changing out of my uniform upstairs. There's a spare key on top of the right window pane."

"Discreet placement, I see," I comment, reaching up on my toes to get at it. I tell myself not to picture him half naked, but I do anyway and my stomach churns nervously. I don't know if I should slow down so he'll be dressed by the time I see him, or hurry up so he won't be dressed by the time I see him

"Most people don't see things that are right in front of them, so it's not that bad of a hiding spot." He says, and I hear the ruffling of clothing behind him.

I take the key and my tingling hand struggles to fit into into the lock and twist.

"Well now I know how to get in if I ever want to rob you." I tell him and the sound of his voice is muffled by something. "What?" I put the key back in it's place before stepping inside to the warm house.

"I said you're too nice to break in." He repeats and I grin, sliding my shoes off my feet and pulling my jacket tightly around my shoulders until I warm up more.

"You don't know that," I tease, tempted to go upstairs, but I stop myself so I don't push him too far and find my way into the kitchen. "Well I'll be waiting downstairs for you whenever you decide to come down."

"I'm already coming down."

I hear a dial tone the same time footsteps descend the staircase.

He comes into the room with jeans on and a dark blue jumper that sits lazily across his shoulders. His collarbones peaks out of the loose neckline and it drapes over his hands. He's started to pull up the sleeves so they don't fall past his knuckles anymore and his cheeks are glowing healthily when he smiles at me. My breathing is uneven, but I still act like I see him this way all the time because I do. I trust feels different every time too.

"Do you want anything to eat? Drink?" He asks and I shake my head.

"I'm fine for now," I tell him, having to clear my scratchy throat.

He sits right beside me and I pull out my things to distract myself, but nothing is a greater distraction than him.

"What do you want to do first?" He asks.

 _Kiss you_.

"Uh - just the homework from biology?" I say. I don't even think I'll need help on it, but acting like I do will get me staying here longer.

"Sure," he agrees, taking out his things, but still looks over at my page instead of his.

We go through each questions and I hate that I'm playing stupid so he'll keep talking, but I'm sure he realises I'm not that much of an idiot. By the time his mum gets home, he's getting me to do the questions on my own - which I was capable of doing the whole time - and I'm glad she can give me a break from my own stupidity. I should have just asked him about something I actually didn't understand.

"Hi, Louis." She greets me with a smile, a large handbag over her shoulder that she places on the counter behind us. "You've got homework already?"

I laugh and nod.

"Yeah, they decided that two weeks was enough of a stress-reliever. Throwing it back on us can't do any harm, can it?" I reply sarcastically and she smiles sympathetically.

"Well I'm glad you're both working hard." She says, and every time I see her, she reminds me more and more of Marcel.

"Are you going to stay for dinner?" She wonders and I looked to Marcel, not sure what to say.

He shrugs and chuckles awkwardly.

"If you want to," he agrees and I nod, glad I got the approval to stay longer than usual.

"Why don't you take a break so I can use the kitchen? I'm sure your dad will be home soon too." She tells him and he nods.

"We were pretty much done anyway," he comments, standing to his feet.

I start to gather my scattered sheets of paper into a messy pile, not bothering to fix it as I stress about being alone with him again. I'm unusually quiet already and I wonder if the two of them notice the difference. I've been comfortable talking to them before so nothing should be different.

"Well just go up to my room for a bit. You can bring your stuff up there for now." Marcel says, and I silently agree, following him up while trying not to drop everything I'm holding. It slides around my shaking hands and I have to grip it so tight that my muscles burn.

_Calm the fuck down._

I repeat the words over and over until it can convince myself I'm overreacting. We were alone so many times before this and nothing happened.

 _But something almost did_.

I set my books on Marcel's desk and sit on the foot of his bed, my frustration thickening when he sits with a space between us, up by his headboard. I wish I had the bravery to move forward and hold his hand or get him to hug me, but I stay where I am.

We talk for an hour straight. The distance between us becomes aggravating enough for me to slowly move closer to him, even if we aren't touching. He notices, but doesn't look any more nervous or uncomfortable about it, so I don't move. I'll be as close to him as possible, but I wish it would be okay to touch him again. Every bone in my hand aches when I get closer, and the only source of relief would be the warmth of his skin, but there's still a few inches between us. He's already an addiction and I haven't even gotten the chance to know what his mouth feels like. I can't imagine how I've gone so fucking long without someone like him and I can't understand why I'm still waiting. I haven't taken all the chances I've been given and even if I'm aware of that, I still give our bodies a distance that makes me suffocate. My head pounds from keeping myself back and he can see something when he asks if I'm alright. I tell him I'm fine, but not that I've never needed someone the way I need him. I don't tell him I want to kiss him and I don't tell him I want to hold his hand. I stay quiet.

We somehow managing to get on the topic of his cousin's boyfriend table dancing shirtless at someone's wedding reception, and the aching goes away when he starts to laugh. He shows me videos of him, the a tie still around his neck and a bottle of wine in his hand. He looks fucking insane, and I don't get why no one stopped him when he first began stripping out of his clothes. Marcel's cousin broke up with him the next day, which was a year ago, but we're still laughing about it when his mum calls us back downstairs to eat. It's more normal now, because that's the stuff we can usually do and I can get more comfortable with him again.

She's already got everything set up on the table and Robin is home, greeting me like Anne did. I sit down next to Marcel to avoid any discomfort next to one of his parents. I can be myself around them when he's beside me, and the four of us can eat without long pauses of forks and knives tapping plates. They're mostly the ones asking me questions about football and how school is going and I lie when I say its pretty good. Anne starts telling me about Marcel and as soon as we get on the topic, he blushes and insists that she has to stop, laughing nervously. She doesn't stop, and goes on to the things he used to do when he was younger.

"His glasses used to be too big for him, but we couldn't travel to get him new ones at the time so they'd slide off his nose and fall off when he was running around..." She laughs at the memory and I can't stop grinning, trying not to adore him as much as I do. I never get attached to people like this, and I have sure as hell never gotten attached to a guy like this.

"Mum..." He groans, burying his face in his hands.

"What? It's not embarrassing," Robin laughs and I nod in agreement.

"Do you have pictures?" I ask and Marcel's eyes widen at me as he kicks me under the table.

"No," he denies, looking to his parents. "Absolutely not."

Anne looks at him with a challenging stare and stands up, taking our empty plates.

"I'll put these away and show you a few," she tells me and Marcel can't hide his mortification.

"I can't believe you," he shakes his head and the colour in his cheeks doesn't fade. "You're a terrible parent."

She scoffs and Robin stands with her.

"We've got pictures of you around the house, what's the difference?" He wonders.

Marcel looks to me, then back at him. His arms are folded across his chest, unimpressed, but my face hurts from all the smiles. I'd spend every day like this if it was possible.

"I've approved of those ones. It's completely different." Marcel insists, not moving from his place at the table.

"Are you scared I'll steal some for blackmail?" I ask when Anne comes back into the room.

"Yes," Marcel says.

"Come to the lounge so we can be comfortable. We've got a lot." Anne says and Robin laughs with her, but Marcel continues to be increasingly embarrassed. They can't be too bad and I would never use them to humiliate him. I know how far I can go before crossing the line, and since he's laughing so much, he won't be hurt by this any time soon.

"I'll hate you if you go with them." He says to me sternly, but there's a soft smile across his lips. I slowly start walking with them and he laughs, dropping his head on his hands. "We're not friends anymore." He jokes and I roll my eyes, wishing he'd come to sit with us.

I sit on the sofa next to Anne when she brings out a thick album, and I'm impatient to see the younger person he used to be. Robin sits next on the other side of her and Marcel leans against the wall farther away, still basking in embarrassment.

"Come sit," I wave him over and he shakes his head.

"You'll laugh at me."

"No I won't." I assure, and he lets out a deep sigh.

Contemplating my wishes, he begins to stride over and squeezes beside me on the sofa. He puts his hands in his lap, but the sides of our bodies are pressed together and breathing comes even easier than when we were talking. I haven't been this close to him in a long time and maybe we're not holding hands or hugging or kissing, but it's better than being surrounded by air. Anne opens the album and my smiles immediately come back when I see Marcel only a few days old, wrapped it a white blanket with a little hat on his head.

Marcel groans, but I can't stop staring at the photo. I look over at him and he's grinning at the pictures, his cheeks still bright pink. His parents are looking down at the pages and can't see my hands at this angle, even if they looked over at us. I take advantage of it and don't pause when I slide my arm around his shoulders. He fits into the curve of my body and I can feel every breath he takes. His curly hair is brushing against my skin and it makes the area tingle enough that chills crawl down my spine, but I refuse to move away from him. His body heat warms my core and I trail my fingers over to his neck so I can feel even the smallest patch of his skin. My heart slows and my mind forgets about every person that isn't in this room and we act like this happens all the time. He doesn't move away or stiffen when I touch him. Instead, he lets his body sink into me until we're moulded together. Relief replaces the blood in my veins and I look at him again so I can know what it's like to see something beautiful. There's no way in hell he can see himself like this, but I wish he could, and I also wish he never stops looking at me. I finally matter in someone's life and he doesn't hold back when he tells me how much he cares about me. I've gone so long without it that I hope he stays with me to make up for it.

The pads of my fingers trace circles along his skin and he smiles at me, the edges of his fingers touching the seam of my trousers. His eyes are shimmering and the small touch lets me know that he's okay with this and he doesn't want me to stop. He doesn't have to say anything for me to know and I appreciate it because I wouldn't know what to tell him half the damn time. I can't even explain my feeling when I think about them, let alone tell him about it.

His parents are explaining a picture of him and I don't think either of us are listening. I'm too focused on him being close enough to kiss, but there's too many people for it to be satisfying. I'm not angry that it isn't happening, because I know that eventually we'll come together. It drives me mad having to wait, and feeling him next to me with his gentle touches are sweetly torturous, but I don't want to fuck anything up this time. I think I know what I can do right and I hope I can make him happy, and even if my entire body is in pain while we take our time, I still think I'd go through hell to have him a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for the upcoming chapters :) sharing this story with you guys is amazing and it's so nice to hear all of your comments!


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answering the questions.

Songs for this chapter:

[Shine - Years & Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXTAn4ELEwM)

[Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GemKqzILV4w)

[Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFfKb_WEkCE)

 

I don't get why we're in the library for the entire period, but I don't care when I watch Marcel reach up to grab a book off the tall shelf. My eyes glue to him as his forefinger prods at the top of the novel, a small section of skin exposing itself above his waist. I draw in a breath, so easily picturing my fingertips sliding across the bare skin and curving around his waist. I could pull him closer and press my mouth anywhere I have access to and I wouldn't have to think about kissing girls.

_"You've been around him an awful lot."_

My dad's words are thick in my head and make my thoughts flee. He talked to me when I came home last night, and the conversation was longer than any else he's said in the entirety of last year.

_"Why haven't you been around your other friends much?"_

_"They're busy." I shouldn't be as nervous to answer the question as I am._

_"Well you've applied for that scholarship and you know the scouts are coming next month. You should be practicing football more too."_

He'd say anything to keep me in a straight line. He's got all the fucked-up speeches prepared for when I fuck up and he doesn't hesitate to tell me, or flinch when the words fall from his mouth. I can't be with Marcel anyway. I don't want to be with him. Fuck, it's sick thinking about it.

_If you didn't want it to happen, you wouldn't be thinking about it at all._

I glance back at Marcel as he opens the book to the first page, leaning against the shelf while bringing his pink bottom lip between his teeth. I draw in a deep breath and try to push my thoughts away, because pushing them away means they eventually won't be there. Still, my eyes find their way over to him and can't look away. I watch the way his eyes scan over the words on each page and he's too interested in whatever it is to stop and take a seat somewhere. When he finally looks up, his eyes immediately find mine and my cheeks burn red as my eyes fall to my hands. I try not to look back because I don't know how long I've been watching him and I hate that he caught me, but when I do, he's still watching me.

He flashes me a small dimpled smile I want to return before I feel a tap on my arm.

"What?" I ask, looking to Trent.

"Are you coming tonight?"

"Where?"

"To the game," he says with a laugh. "Have you not been listening this whole damn time?"

I chuckle, wondering what they'd do if they knew what I was thinking. They'd hate me.

"I've got stuff to do today," I tell them, still focused on Marcel. I don't want to give a shit about what my dad says, but I do, so I'll tell him I'm going to watch the game with everyone _but_ Marcel, while the only person I'm going to see is Marcel. If he doesn't know, he can't say anything or do anything about it and I can be alone with Marcel without any interruptions.

"Like what?" Trent asks and it takes me too long to come up with an excuse.

"I'm just busy," I say. I don't know what else to tell them.

Ian laughs and lowers his voice.

"Are you getting hitched?" He asks and I raise my eyebrows.

" _What_?"

He laughs and turns his head to look at Marcel, then back to me.

"Oh right. You're already married," he tells me and my heart races when it shouldn't. "Just hanging out at home with your husband then? Understandable."

I punch his arm and everyone laughs.

"Fuck off. We're just friends." I say, keeping light about his words. I'm not bothered by it much anymore, but smiling about it will turn the minor husband jokes into not talking to me because I'm okay with being a fag.

"We know," he chuckles and I try to laugh it off, because I wish my own words weren't as true as they are.

They keep talking and I easily get distracted again when I look back and realise Marcel isn't standing where we was five minutes ago. I look around to the tables and sofas and see him sitting by himself on a love seat, leaning against the arm rest with his book settled in his hand, holding the pages apart with his thumb. At this time, I need my dad's words to be enough to stop telling myself how gorgeous he is, but they're not. I keep forgetting that we even talked, too focused on the next time I'm going to get to talk to Marcel.

My eyes are on him for nearly the rest of class, and my mind wanders to every one of his smooth angles I haven't had the chance to touch yet. It's fucking obsessive and I'm not used to thinking so many thing about one person. I usually have distractions all over the place and now there's only him and I couldn't care less about everyone else, so when the bell rings and everyone begins to pile out of the large area, I take my time while my friends leave because the only movements Marcel has made is sitting up and flipping his pages. His four eyes are glued to the page and I grin, sliding my bag over my shoulder and walking to him once everyone is gone. He still doesn't notice me when I'm right in front of him, so I reach for the book and pull it away.

"What are you-" he starts, but when he sees me his smile grows and his eyes shine and I can't help but grin right back at him.

"Class is over, nerd. Let's go," I say and he stands to reach for the book.

"I was almost done," he tells me.

"Done what? The chapter or the entire library?" I tease and he rolls his eyes, suppressing the gleaming smile across his lips.

I give him back the books and he folds the corner of the page before grabbing the rest of his stuff.

" _The chapter_ ," he informs me. "I'm not as big of a nerd as you think."

I raise my eyebrows as we begin to walk out, his hand brushing up against my arm as we head to class. That brief second is enough to think of holding his hand like Amanda held mine this morning. The difference is that he's not a girl so I can't do it in front of everyone without them staring at us and starting up rumours that would most likely be true.

"You've got a huge bookshelf in your room." I remind him. "You're the biggest nerd."

He blushes and shrugs, looking down at me.

"That's not a bad thing," he argues. I agree with him, but don't say anything.

We slide into our desks and I can feel eyes on us as soon as we settle in, aware that Sam and Trent are talking about us, but I don't look their way. If I see them they're going to say something right to me and I want to be able to talk to Marcel without wondering what else they might be doing.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" I ask him as Mrs. Argon still gets everything ready for class. Everyone else is talking and I don't want to keep quiet around him.

"My parents aren't home until late, so I'm not doing anything." He says, then pauses as he over-thinks the sentences. "But I probably wouldn't be doing anything if they were home too."

He fiddles with his hands and I bite the inside of my cheek so I don't smile and make him more nervous.

"Well I'm not doing anything so if even your parents may or may not be home, you're doing something."

He smiles down and me and nods.

"Okay," he agrees, just as Mrs. Argon stands up and begins speaking.

I distract him for the rest of class and get scolded for it more than once, but still don't stop. He continuously whispers that I need to pay attention, but I can't when he's this close. I could reach out and hold his hand under the table and I wonder if the day will come where I can lean over and kiss the dimple impressed in his cheek. By the end of class, I can't stand thinking of anything but him even if we've got a thick review booklet to do for exam practice that I have no fucking idea how to complete. Even as I'm leaving the room with Marcel, I'm being told that I should talk less in class and not distract others.

"Am I distracting?" I ask Marcel while we walk down the hall.

He laughs and nods without hesitation.

"Yes," he replies. "You never stop talking."

"You don't have to listen," I say and he keeps smiling and blushing.

"Well then I would seem rude," He tells me, but I roll my eyes.

"You need to be mean sometimes," I advise, hoping to get him laughing. "Just tell me to shut the fuck up every now and then and maybe I will."

He does laugh, full and heartily as he shakes his head.

"I'm not a mean person." He tells me like I never knew. I think he would apologize to a bug if he ever stepped on one.

"You should start to be. It makes you worry less." I insist and he raises his eyebrows.

"I'd worry more." He chuckles just as I see Ian and Emma holding hands down the hall with Amanda beside them.

I stare at the couple in envy, but Amanda ruins it when she flashes me a giddy smile and kisses my cheek. Her thin arms hug me too tightly and I let go quickly.

"Hi," she greets, keeping her arm around me as we all continue to walk together. I can feel Marcel distancing himself from me and I want to go back to just the two of us.

"Hey," I say and she slides her hand down my arm to entwine our fingers together. It's uncomfortable like this, but I don't move because I should be teaching myself to enjoy it. No matter what I tell myself, my clothing will still feel more stiff with her this close and I want to take three steps away to be near Marcel again.

"What are you doing tonight?" She asks and I see Marcel's head turn towards me in the corner of my eye. I glance at him and for a brief second I see his face, and he thinks I'm going to say _nothing_. He thinks Amanda is better than him and he has no idea how wrong he is.

"I've got a lot of stuff to do before exams and I told Marcel I'd hang out with him after school." I say.

I quickly got over pretending like I wasn't hanging out with him. They knew we're friends and my guilt quickly grew every time I would make something up. He's my best friend and I want to do things to change that sometimes, but rejecting him isn't on that list.

Looking back at him, he's relieved with my answer and I'm just as satisfied when I see it put him at ease.

"Tomorrow?" I ask her, even if I'd rather be with Marcel. I'd rather be with many other people, but I don't want her to think I'm avoiding her again and start another fight. I'm tired of fighting.

She smiles up and me and nods.

"Mhmm," she agrees, kissing me again. I don't feel it. "I'll ring you later on tonight."

I'm already glad I won't be seeing her for at least another hour.

"See you after."

Right after school, I go to Marcel's and am increasingly thankful his parents aren't home. Instead of waiting in the cold, I reach for Marcel's spare key again and let myself in, and think I might not mind if I catch him in the middle of changing this time. We'll be alone for a while, and Amanda won't be calling me for another few hours. When the realisation sets in that we're going to be  _alone_ for  _hours_ , my skin starts to burn. There won't be anyone around to get in the way and there will be only us in this big, empty house, but staying around him fills up so much space that it might seem smaller.

I jog up to his room, my bag heavy with review assignments and exam preparations that I would like to shred into pieces to pretend like I'm not in school for a while. My heart is beating fast when I open his door, and I see that his lamp on his desk is the only thing lighting the room. I have to feel for the switch to flick on the ceiling light, then see Marcel lying in bed on his stomach, the jacket of his uniform draped over a chair and his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress. As soon as the light comes on, he sits up and looks around, frowning until he sees me.

"Was I sleeping?" He chuckles and I bite my cheek to hide the adoration on my face. His hair is disheveled and he rubs his eyes, yawning. His voice is deep and raspy and his cheeks glow when he looks at me.

"If you're tired, I can leave," I suggest, praying that he'll make coffee or something to keep awake. It's going to be too long before we're actually alone again, and I can hold his hand now without anyone staring at us and if I ever find the bravery, I could kiss him. I won't have to worry about who sees. It seems too easy when he's right in front of me, but I push away every ounce of doubt that I've ever had because I've spent way too fucking long trying to please everyone else. I deserve to be happy and Marcel makes me happy.

"No, you can stay," he tells me, and I'm already making my way to my usual spot at the foot of his bed. "My sleeping schedule is already messed up so I don't want to make it worse."

He smiles up at me and his back presses against the headboard. He's too far away, but I've never tried to get as close to him as I want to, so I stay where I am for now. I already know my own blood will end up uncomfortable if I'm this far from him for too long, so I plan on closing the distance between us by the end of the night. I plan on doing a lot by the end of the night.

"Did you just want to work on the booklets from today?" He wonders, yawning again.

I feel bad for staying when he could be sleeping, but in a few hours I have to go back to pretending like I have no feelings for him. I'd rather spend our time looking at his open eyes and watching his mouth smile and laugh and listen to his voice. I've never needed another person like this before and most of the time I think it's fucking stupid and immature, but that doesn't make me stop. I crave his presence even if we're in the same damn room, because I won't be satisfied until our bodies are pressed together.

"Yeah, there's some stuff from the beginning of the year I don't remember and maths is kind of difficult." I tell him, making myself as comfortable as I can being a person with empty arms.

"Yeah, I haven't really looked at it yet, but I don't think it'll be too bad." He tells me. The small talk isn't enough and I know I'll be the least productive with the school work. I'm already distracted with his lazy smile and pink cheeks.

When he sits beside, we're much closer than before, but it's still not enough. It _is_ enough to stare at his mouth while he talks to me, even if he's babbling on about maths. When I make him laugh and get off topic, he eventually gets me back on track and tells me to try some questions because he thinks that's what I came here for. Even as I look at the paper, the room is deafeningly silent and I still glance over at him and tell myself repeatedly that _we're alone_. My head throbs and my body aches with the separation because I know what it's like to be so close but not having enough of a chance. We've been pulled apart so many times before this, but I go through every possible scenario and I don't even think a natural disaster could stop me from getting away from him.

I look over to Marcel doing one of the questions, holding a pencil between his fingers and twisting it around. He furrows his brow and bites his bottom lip as he tries to figure it out, writing down a few things and erasing a few things. His face smooths out when I assume he gets the right answer, and I smile at every attribute of his I've learned about. I don't know how long I've been looking, but soon we make eye contact and he grins in a way that asks what he was doing to make me focus so much of my attention on him. My only answer is that he's impossibly fucking perfect.

He looks away again but I can't, but it doesn't take him long to look at me once more and he must wonder what the hell I'm doing, as _I'm_ wondering what the hell I'm doing. My cheeks burn in embarrassment, even if I know we're alone. I can want this and want him without fear of other people.

"Sorry," I apologize, my fingers twisting around my pencil.

"It's fine." He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders, then it gets silent again. I smile at the strange awkwardness we don't usually have around each other because I'm used to talking so much when I'm with him.

 _Kiss him_.

I've wanted this for so long but I can't fuck it up. I need this part of him more than I've needed anything, and even if I can't see anything fucking it up, my heart vibrates when I remember the things that stopped us before. The difference this time is that his parents aren't home and have no way of stopping us. His door is locked anyway and Amanda isn't here and my friends aren't here and my dad isn't here. I can do anything I want right now and God, I want _him_.

"Marcel?" I say, watching him lift his head as he looks over at me, intently listening to what I have to say even if I won't be saying much. His eyes literally fucking glisten - so much he should be put into a fairytale and be kissed by royalty. I'd put a plastic crown on my head and pretend I'm a king just to feel his mouth against mine.

"Yeah?" He asks and I turn towards him more so we're completely facing each other.

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to calm the beat pounding against my ribcage then ask, "Can I try something?"

He nods, placing his pencil beside him. I have all faith in myself to move forward with this.

"Yeah."

I crave to know what he feels like more and more when I look at his lips - watching his tongue swipe across the cerise skin. I wonder how good the crevices of his mouth taste while they press against my tongue and if his lips are as smooth as they appear. I've never been close to him like this before, even if we've been close to kissing before. This is more real, like I'm suppose to be here as long as I can, and I _want_ to be here as long as I can. Time slows to a halt, allowing everything around us to blur into nothing like nothing else matters but him. When I hesitantly lean forward, my thrumming heart relaxes into a steady beat and calms my wild thoughts. I'm meant to do this, and when our mouths secure against each other, he doesn't pull back, so I move a little closer.

 _And we're kissing_.

A wave of lust crashes down us and I quickly try to soak up every part of him and his fucking _perfect_ feeling. I immediately think of resuscitation and how my first death was the first time I kissed a girl. Every time after that my grave sunk deeper and deeper and my body decayed more and more but he's here and he's with me I'm _alive_. I can feel my heart beat in my chest and my lungs filling with fresh air as his rose petal lips move gently across mine. He's soft in all the right ways and I have to remind myself he's never kissed anyone before and I don't want to push him too far, but after this I'm going to make sure I never push him away. I shift closer to him so our warm bodies press together, placing my hand just below his jaw where my fingers slide into place under the curve of his bone. His hands crawl around my waist hesitantly, but it's another thing to focus on and memorize. I learn the way his hands are larger than mine but hold me at the right spot, dipping into the bend of my body so flawlessly like he's the only thing that's supposed to hold me without letting go - not for a damn second. I part my lips further, moulding my tongue into his as another attempt to get every feeling I've missed out on while I was busy thinking fucking Amanda was right. I don't care about moving too fast because he's just as hungry for this as I am, so I pull him closer to me and deepen the kiss. My imagination isn't big enough to picture this feeling no matter how often I thought of kissing him, but I can't believe I had doubts in the feeling. It's so good that I don't want to stop, but my lips throb and my breath has been pulled away from me so I have to pull back. An involuntary smile is on my face, but don't move too far away so I can kiss him again.

He laughs into my mouth and I've never tasted something so beautiful.

I've never felt like this while being with Amanda or with any other girls and being with a guy is-

Marcel is holding my hand and we're still breathtakingly close but I've just kissed a guy when I have a girlfriend who will either hate me or laugh in my face when she finds out. I have a father who's eyes will go red and will try to burn my feelings away with holy water and the eyes of other people. I have friends that will colour me pink and belittle my masculinity at every chance they get, forgetting my name to replace it with fag. Then there's the boy in front of me who puts the sun above my head again and guides me home when I'm lost and I always get lost. He's mended all the broken parts of me I never knew I had, accepting every piece along the way. I want to think of him as perfection and I want him to be enough to forget about everyone else, but I'm already standing up and I'm away from him when I wanted to get closer to him two minutes ago. I can feel everyone's eyes on us even if they're not around and I have to force myself to grab all my things to leave.

"I'm so sorry," I say. I can't bring myself to look at him again, packing up all my things. My hands are shaking because he's not here to hold them but he can't hold them. "I need to go - I just - I didn't mean to do-"

I almost yell at myself in frustration, unable to get a single sentence out properly. I don't want him to hate me for this, but I'm forgetting about him so quickly because of everyone else. I should only care about him right now but I can't. I've never been panicked like this before.

"Louis it's fine-"

"I'll see you-" I trail off, shaking my head because I don't know if I can see him later. "Bye. I really have to go."

I leave the room and swear he calls my name saying it's okay, but still walk out the front door to go home.

When I get in my car I think I might break down or stop breathing, but I'm driving down the road and have to touch my lips because I can still feel him against me. Maybe I should have gone back inside, but I don't know what I would've done if I had gone back. I don't know what I'm going to do when I get home and I don't know what I'm doing right now other than telling myself I need to take the long way home so I can over think everything because he pulled me closer and he wanted me close. No one knew about it and no one is going to know but us because we were the only ones in that room and in that house. We were the only ones holding each other like letting go would be the end of our damned world and maybe I kissed a boy and shouldn't have liked it that much, but nothing is going to let me go back and change that. I can't change that and I don't think I want to.

I'm getting closer to my house and I can't smile like this because my dad might see. I can't tell anyone I'm finally happy but I hope Marcel knows even if I'm still fucking terrified of all the things that might happen after this. I turn on the radio to drown out any doubts I have, smiling and thinking of him for as long as I can so I don't lose my mind. It's fucking stupid being this happy about a single person, but I'd rather be idiotic than never know him like this.

I'd rather do anything then never know him like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was supposed to be posted yesterday, but I didn't end up saving my work one night and lost everything :( I'm glad I remembered most of what I wrote and this was such a big chapter so I hope you all liked it and I hope you're excited for what's coming next :)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses upon kisses.

Songs for this chapter:

[Arms - Christina Perri](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeW0Sl0tNS8)

[How Will I Know - Sam Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwHACITShSI)

[Lay Me Down - Sam Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaMq2nn5ac0)

 

I didn't see Marcel enough yesterday, with the exception of the classes we have together. We couldn't be alone like we were before, and twenty four hours is long enough to lose my sanity, and being with Amanda since has only made our separation worse. I had too much time to think about what I did and what he did and how I left and how much I messed up and that he still hasn't talked to me and that he actually wanted me to stay but _I still left_. I couldn't handle the space yesterday afternoon. I gave up on trying to be strong or whatever because I was sure I'd break down if I had to look at him for another hour without saying or doing anything. So, I impulsively lied our way out of class for a few minutes and we were alone again. He told me multiple times that someone would catch us, but I still held his hand and walked down the hall to the toilets, where there are locked doors and no security cameras.

_"We should go back, someone could walk in." He looks at the door repeatedly just like he looked around when we were walking here. I know there won't be anyone coming in, and even if they did I don't think they'd see anything._

_"I shouldn't have left yesterday," I tell him, a grin spreading across my lips as I shake my head._

_He blushes, more shy than before when he says,_ _"I wish you didn't."_

We kissed for a while after that, and there was fire in my veins until he begged me to go back to class because someone would eventually walk in on us. He laughed when I pulled him closer and make him stay longer, but eventually the few minutes we were supposed to be gone turned into much longer, and we had to go back before someone came looking for us. My entire body was warm from the inside out and the heart sewn inside of him was slowly painted on his sleeve. Every part of me wanted to get him alone after that, but Amanda attached herself to me so much that I could barely talk to him.

We have a graduation meeting today and I sit beside Marcel while Mrs. Wallace drones on about dates and requirements for walking across the stage, and I whisper mocking comments about her in his ear. He pinches me when I don't stop, but I couldn't go much longer without seeing him smile. Amanda is with her friends and my friends haven't bothered to show up, so it's just the two of us even if we're in a room of all the other graduates.

After the meeting, I make sure we walk slow so the halls are cleared for us. I want to be able to say something without other people staring at us, and I know those people will be leaving the lunch hall to get to their classes soon, so I take advantage of the small opportunity. I take a step closer to him and already reach for his hand, desperate to feel his warmth all over again.

"I have football tonight, but could I come to yours after?" I wonder.

His eyes are bright when he nods, smiling wide as he looks down at me. I'll never get used to his beauty.

"We actually have to do some schoolwork this time. Exams are soon and I really want to do well." He says, but I roll my eyes and make him blush.

"Can't you take a break for a few hours?" I wonder, hoping I'm enough to convince him. I want to be with him without any distractions, and school is a distraction. If I could kiss him for a while and have him think of only me, I'll be satisfied.

"I shouldn't, Louis," he sighs, running his thumb back and forth across my knuckles. It's calming and I'm almost ready to agree to anything he says, but he has to want a break and he has to want to kiss me again.

"You shouldn't, but you can," I insist and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders.

"There's lots I have to go over and I've already gotten some letters back from universities in London and-"

"And I'm sure you're going ace all your damn exams no matter how many breaks you take, so I don't see why you can't take one today." I tell him and he's still smiling at me. His face glows like the sun shines directly on him, but there aren't any windows around. It's enough to get me wondering if he _is_ the sun.

"When is football done?" He wonders, leaning against the lockers and unintentionally gives me everything I want.

"Six. But I'll be there around six-thirty so I have a chance to shower." I say and he still looks hesitant, but I'll go mad all over again if I don't see him tonight. I've already been talked to about keeping my grades where they are, but one night can't do much. I'll have Marcel to study with me when we're not too busy kissing anyway, so I don't see any problem with it.

"Fine," he agrees, eyes flickering down to my lonely mouth. "But only for a few hours."

"Yeah, yeah," I laugh, looking down the halls again for anyone else. When I see that we're the only ones around, my attention is focused solely on him again.

I don't waste time, tilting my head up and leaning into him so my lips smooth over his. It's delicate because getting as intimate as possible will make it too hard to stop and someone will be interrupting us. No matter how gentle we are though, it's enough to lace my spine with ice that ends up propelling through my entire body. I smile against his mouth because he tastes like happiness and the warmth radiating off his cheeks settles in against my fingertips while I run my thumb across his skin. He jumps when the bell rings, and I can feel the strong force between us even as I pull away to laugh. His body is still next to me and I give his hand a squeeze before people begin flowing into the halls again. We let go, but still walk to class together and stay together until after school when he has to go home.

I make sure he knows I'll be there at six-thirty, maybe earlier if I shower quickly and drive there faster. I'm going to need to be with him after the hasty kissing and brief hand-holding. During practise, I still wish he was with me even if Sam makes sure to remind me that he finds Marcel annoying. I repeatedly tell him to fuck off and repeatedly tell myself he's just being bitchy because I never used to like Marcel and now I'm choosing him over Sam. I still hate it when he's rude to Marcel when I'm around, because he tries to say things that should pull us apart, but he has no fucking clue what I want and makes me regret things I shouldn't.

I don't even change my clothes when I leave the pitch, jogging to my car to get home and get in the shower so I can be with Marcel. When I check my phone to see if he got ahold of me, there are only messages from Amanda, but I no longer have to complain about the numbness she used to make me feel. Two days ago, the smallest of Marcel's touches were enough to make me forget what she looks like and even now when I think of her, the images come out blurred and the things we did together are fuzzy, like it was a story someone else told me and not something I experienced first-hand.

I shower quickly and rub my hair with a towel for only a few seconds so water doesn't drip on my shirt. I think I would have left it soaking if I wouldn't drench myself, but it's still damp by the time I'm getting into clean clothes and heading downstairs.

"Where are you going?"

My heart jumps and I clutch my chest to make sure it hasn't jumped out of my ribcage. I thought I was home alone, but my dad is walking towards me when I turn around.

"Uh - Amanda's," I lie. If I say anything else he'll make me stay home because he'll know I'll be with Marcel.

He doesn't look convinced, but he has no evidence to prove me wrong.

"We're all going to be home tonight for dinner and your mother would like you to be home by then." He tells me firmly, and there isn't a way to get out of things like this, so I'll have to leave Marcel early.

"Sure," I agree, avoiding his cold glare. Even as I keep my eyes down, the familiarity of his callous disposition never leaves my mind, so I leave the house as quickly as I can. I'm barely going to have any time with Marcel because of him, so I don't want to waste any of it.

The cold air freezes my cheeks and stiffens my sore muscles, but I don't wait for my vehicle to warm up again when I get inside. I want to get to Marcel quickly, because I'm sure my dad will be ringing me to come home as soon as he can. I'm surprised my phone isn't going off the second I was out the door. I'm surprised he let me leave the house. Even if I told him I'd be with Amanda, my nervous lie was shit and he probably saw right through it.

Marcel isn't downstairs when I get there and I hope he isn't sleeping again as I make my way to his bedroom. The light is on, peeking through the crack under his door. I can hear movement and forcefully resist the urge to run in to see him, taking my time like any other person would. I open his door with my head down and only look up just as I collide into Marcel's firm chest.

"Oops," he says with a laugh and I take a step back and regain my balance, smiling up at him. I don't put too much distance between us, trying not to embarrass myself further.

"Hi," I greet, still standing in the doorway.

Neither of us know what to say and I try to find coherent words, but if I speak I might talk about how he's touching the edge of his glasses to adjust them and his cheeks are familiarly flushed. I'll keep looking at his shirt that hangs off his shoulders lazily, because that's all my mind knows. I forget why I came here but I like that he's smiling and he's still looking at me.

"I got a new film for Christmas and I haven't watched it yet." He's the first one to break the silence but I can only nod, my throat still dry. "It's supposed to be funny."

I nod again and clear my throat so I can reply properly.

"Sure. My parents want me home soon though, so I'll probably have to go after." I answer. My voice is hoarse from staring at him, but it'll hurt to much to tear my eyes away from him.

"That's fine. I just - I have to use the loo." He tells me, biting back his grin. I realise I'm blocking his way out and laugh, stepping aside. "You can set it up if you want, it's just sitting by the telly."

Once again, I silently agree and he walks past me, down the hall. Stepping into his bedroom, I look at his bed and my mind makes up images of us sitting closely together, the sides of our bodies touching as we stare at the screen, trying not to look at each other. I get the film started but my head is in overdrive while I stand alone and think of what might happen when he comes back. I'm in front of his television, not doing anything with myself before I notice I'm being a fucking idiot and sit on his bed while waiting for him to come back. My hands fidget and there's room for him beside me and we're going to be close and I'm going to need to kiss him again before I go, but I don't know when.

"Did you want popcorn?" He peeks his head through the door a minute later and I jump at the sound before straightening my posture and coughing to clear my throat.

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be able to sit through the whole thing without something to eat." I say, and my voice is still rough but I don't think there's anything I can do to fix it anymore.

He chuckles and says, "Me either. I'll be back in a few minutes." Then gives me a soft smile, leaving. I bury my face in my hands with embarrassment. I'm going to make a fucking fool out of myself one of these days and I won't even realise it until he's gone.

My mind wanders again while I sit alone, thinking of the first date I had with Amanda when I took her to see a film at the cinema in town. I don't even remember what it was called, but I looked over at her once and apparently she thought I wanted to snog for the remainder of time we were sitting down. I didn't want any kissing then, but if this was a date with Marcel, I sure as hell wouldn't mind. I'd rather be kissing him for the entirety of the film instead.

The television is on the menu screen when Marcel comes back. There's enough space beside me that we'll still be close together and when he sits next to me, the popcorn bowl rests on our thighs. The heat of his body emits into my skin and I can feel his eyes on me, scanning my face that can't turn towards him too long or that will be enough for me to get rid of all the space between us. It takes a lot more fucking strength than I thought it would to keep my eyes away, and we're quiet when he presses play and the film starts, leaving us in the darkness of his bedroom for a few seconds. It makes me want to talk more, but when the screen lights up I have something else to focus on.

As it plays, all we hear is each other's breathing, the crunching of popcorn, and the characters talking. My hands are clammy and I just want to kiss him again. I'm reminded of how soft his lips are and how his tongue tastes and I want to feel it all over again without running away like I'm fucking scared. He laughs throughout the film and I catch him looking at me from the corner of my eye, when I'm trying not to look at him. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles and his thick lips look sinfully like heaven. He becomes all dimples and beauty and I don't know how I'm the first person to have him like this, but I'm glad no one else has gotten him in their grasp. I'd be too jealous if anyone ever saw him the way I do, even if that person was long forgotten.

The popcorn runs out soon and Marcel places it on the floor, over on his side of the bed. He runs his hands on his jeans before folding one across his stomach and resting the other on his thigh. His palm rests against his jeans and my mind fills with thoughts of holding it against mine, pressing it to me and bringing myself closer. The image makes my stomach feel fucking weird in the best way possible, but I probably shouldn't touch him any time soon if I plan on developing more layers of sweat on my skin. I have to rub them against my jeans like he did earlier, getting rid of the damn problem. My eyes are on his hand again and I over think this shit because I've never had to deal with it before. I wonder if he doesn't like holding my hand and I've been making up all this shit in my head so I could get what I want, but roll my eyes at the fucking stupid conversation I'm having with myself and wipe my hands on my jeans once more, lacing our fingers together. I pull our hands up so they rest on my thigh and he looks at me, a little surprised, but doesn't move away. I smile contently and let my fingers drape over the back of his hand just like his are against mine. I relax and ease into him, our bodies leaning against each other for support.

I hated holding hands with Amanda. I didn't like showing so much affection in front of her, yet here I am, itching to hold hands with a guy and daydreaming about his goddamn mouth.

Marcel doesn't say anything and I like the silence, not wanting to start a conversation and not wanting him to move. This feels right, and I never understood what 'right' was because I never felt it before him, but we're still holding hands as the film ends. Our fingers are loosely hanging on to each other as we stand apart like we we're used to being with each other every day. I run my thumb across his and we're directly across from each other with only a foot between our bodies and I'm happy with him and I don't want to stop holding his hand. His green eyes meet mine and his pink lips barely part like he wants to say something but doesn't know how.

"I had fun," I speak for him, not wanting him to get embarrassed if he stumbles over his words.

"Yeah. Me too," he agrees, and I feel his chest rise and fall deeply like I'm breathing for him.

My eyes flicker to his lips just as his tongue runs across them. I feel so damn weak as I think of kissing him again, but I look up and hope to find an idea that he wants me. He barely leans forward, and that's enough to let my confidence take over. I put my free hand on his neck and tilt my head up, pushing myself onto my toes to reach his mouth. That's enough to press our lips together, and we keep our fingers entangled, but his other hand is on the back of my neck, pulling me closer so our lips press together harder. He tastes like the salty popcorn we ate and his lips are still smooth like last time. I want to run my tongue along every fucking inch of his mouth and I don't want to leave tonight. I drop my hand from his neck to the small of his back, bringing his body closer so there is no space between us. Fisting the material on his shirt, I continue to move my mouth with ease, barely able to breathe between each parting of our lips. He feels so fucking amazing and I'd rather stay here all night doing this and holding hands and watching films than go home and get a call from Amanda, asking where I was tonight and why I haven't been replying to her. I'm made to feel like this and I don't know how anyone expects me to want to get rid of him. He's too good to let go of, but I feel light-headed and need more air. I pull back a few inches, but his hand is still on my neck, refusing to let me move too far.

"Holy fuck..." I chuckle, resting my forehead against his. Our chests rise and fall quickly, and I can still taste his breath, and neither of us can put an end our ridiculously large smiles. Some part of me doesn't believe he's real or that this is real, but kisses me one more time and reminds me that all of it is happening. It's softer than before, but he still makes me feel more than Amanda ever has and ever will.

"Don't you have to go?" He asks, a gleaming smile still on his face. I can feel his curls prickle across my head and I don't understand how his eyes actually fucking _sparkle_. Every damn time he smiles I'm lost in him and can't bother to be found.

"Are you kicking me out, Styles?" I tease and he laughs quietly, shaking his head.

"No," he says quietly, the tips of his fingers dancing along the base of my neck. "You just seem a little distracted."

"You're kind of distracting." The words tumble out of my mouth before I even think of them and I know my face goes red because I don't know who the fuck says that sort of shit, but I never thought it would be me. It's cheesy and for those cute couples everyone envies, which I can't see myself ever being apart of. He takes a step back from me, unaffected by my idiotic words, but I don't know why he's moving farther from me.

"You can't stay longer?" He asks and I'm ready to drop all the shit with my mum and dad to be with him, but my phone will be ringing any second if I didn't start driving home. I'm probably already late enough and they get pissed at me too much for being away when they were home. Plus, my dad will be convinced I'm with Marcel and feel the need to tell me that his 'strangeness' has a bad influence on me.

"I can't," I sigh, still holding his hand. "But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Mhm," he agrees and I try to keep my eyes from looking at his lips again. I shouldn't kiss him too long because I might not be leaving. "Tomorrow."

 _Fuck it_.

I kiss him again and stop myself from intensifying it because I already want to stay with him. I pull back and let go of his hand and it's too much separation for me already, but he's still smiling like I am. I step away from him to put some distance between us in hope that I'd control myself around him more.

"See you later," I say, and his eyes don't leave me as I walk away.

I can still feel him staring and smiling when I turn away and I can't wipe the the ridiculous smile from my face when I go down to my car. I wonder what he's doing when I walk away and I wonder if he wants me back just as much as I want to go back and I wonder if he's smiling like I am too. I take the long way home again to compose myself and hopefully look somewhat sane when I get home, because right now my cheeks ache and I might start manically laughing because I haven't been this happy with someone in my entire damn life.

I only get one phone call from my mother, asking where I've been, and I don't really lie when I tell her I'm on my way.

I've already contemplated on turning around and going back to Marcel's, but I have to stop myself. I'm terrified I'll be addicted to him until I get sick of him and I don't want to leave someone like that. He's given me too much to even consider it, especially when I have Amanda as his comparison. If anyone thought she was better than him, I'd lose my mind trying to prove them wrong. I was blind to be with her and stumbling around, running my limbs into things that caused scrapes and bruises along my skin, but watching Marcel laugh is enough to clear the filmy haze. Instead of regretting all the time I'm spending with him, I regret every moment I'm with someone else. At this point, I don't even think I'd consider it cheating on Amanda, no matter how fucked up it sounds. I'm not in a relationship with her the way I am with Marcel, even if I've kissed her and fucked her and held hands with her and all the stuff couples do together. I can _feel_ Marcel. As I drive further away from him, every bone in my body reacts to what he's doing right now, even if it's only breathing.

The radio is on and I know the song, so I turn it up louder and drown out any other sound there may be. I never sing, even when I'm alone, but I'm still smiling and my brain is saturated in everything _him_. So, I hum to the music and tap my fingers against the steering wheel and wish we didn't have to be alone to be together.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the beginning.

Songs for this chapter:

 [Long Way Down - One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O34tUpLjYRs)

[Your Kisses - Daughter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lR3bDIpO8Os)

[Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_S_TbD1XFM)

[War is Love - Bobby Andonov](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyZlb_hTJ5A)

[Love Me or Leave Me - Little Mix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aoeOo1p9fs)

 

Marcel's POV

He kissed me for the first time of January 4th, and our mouths have been attached every day he came over since then. It's gotten to the point where I don't even know how to stop him and I wonder how the hell he stops himself. I still have to convince myself I'm awake when he's next to me and that I don't have to dream about him anymore. Exams are starting soon, so I'm going to be swamped with work, but I don't want to get away from him. Every time he walks into my bedroom, there's an existing tension that we aren't usually used to, but it doesn't take long for us to loosen up and laugh more. We'd get so comfortable that he'd kiss me goodbye and I'd kiss him back like it's the only thing I know how to do. It seems like I waited ages for him to merely friends with me but in just a few months, I'm amazed to see where we are.

I still hesitate when he's around and wait for the breaking of glass and disasters to strike, but it never does. I should either be worried or relieved, but each feeling clashed together the first time he held my hand. It was the first time anyone held my hand. I went seventeen years without knowledge of what it feels like to let a person hold me like that, and I never understood what people were talking about when they said kisses were like drugs you shoot into your veins - except there isn't a chance you'll have a clean withdrawal. Now, I finally understand and it's getting harder because I've been deprived of someone for so long that I forgot that I never had someone in the first place. I only dreamt of arms and laughter and the true existence of love before him and I didn't think it was a possibility for someone like me. If he never kissed me, I would be reminded that in two years and a few months, it will be two decades of lying in bed alone with lips that have never touched someone else's and a body that has only been wrapped in blankets. I'd still be convinced alone is all I'll ever be, but now he's holding my hand and laughing into my mouth and I don't have to dream about those things anymore because they're happening nearly every day. I get to make up for lost time even if we've barely had any time.

Maybe every now and then, I would walk by someone or look at someone and temporarily loved the idea of them. I'd infatuate myself with thoughts of their kisses and the people they could be if we were together, but it was never real. It's laughing like the sun around a person who has been crying for years - cruel, and unforgiving. Hell, I still don't understand what love really means or what it feels like, but I don't mind him holding my hand a little longer and kissing me a little harder if he stays with me and helps me figure it out. His addiction will kill me before I let him go.

It's particularly hard to keep away from him in school, and the both of us are craving each other so much that we found ways to be alone and indulge in a few minutes of satisfaction. It's barely enough to keep me rested for the remainder of the day, but I'd take it over being deprived for an entire twenty-four hours.

Now, I'm waiting for him in my bedroom like I helplessly do every time he tells me he's coming over, and I'm able to hold myself together so I don't bounce off the walls when he gets here. I hear him walking up the stairs at I'm already used to the sound of his footfall, so my stomach churns and my heart skips a few beats because I'm always this nervous when he first stops by. I don't know what to say to him or what to ask him, but if I don't do anything - I'll drive myself insane trying to figure it out. Attempting to revise for exams has been awful and every time I try to focus on school, my mind travels to his kisses and the pressure of his body that I still feel against me.

I don't know if we're in a relationship but I think he's still with Amanda because he doesn't want to tell anyone. They still hold hands at school and she kisses him when he looks like he doesn't want her and like he wants me. Usually, I wouldn't notice things like that, but I've seen the way he looks at me when we're together and it's the opposite of what he looks like when he's with Amanda. He's said so much about her numbness that I don't feel any sympathy for her like I probably should. She's made him miserable, and he's wasted more than a year trying to force himself to want her. I hope I'm enough to make up for that, but it's still hard to believe that he might want me more than he wants other people. I'm going to question what he wants until he tells me exactly.

He walks inside, out of his uniform with a grey shirt and trousers in it's place. The jeans wrap around his thighs in a way that increases my heart beat and I swallow to make the dryness in my throat disappear when he sits next to me. It doesn't go away - in fact, it gets worse when my eyes fall to his collar bones and I can see how sharply they curve and extend towards his shoulders.

"Do you have anything today?" I ask, holding my hands together when he sits next to me. He said he might have a few assignments to do early today, but he's empty-handed walking in here. Yesterday we worked on a few things for maths, but it wasn't long before we got distracted and our papers were pushed aside so we could get closer together.

"Nothing, actually," he tells me, sitting cross-legged beside me. He's closer now and his blue eyes can drown my nerves. "I just - I wanted to see you."

"Oh," is the only word that comes out of my mouth, when I want to tell him I'm glad because that means we can do _other things_.

"Is that okay?" He wonders and I nod, because I don't think I'll ever be upset over him being here.

"Yeah. Of course," I reply, and it only takes a few seconds for him to lean into me.

He always stares at my mouth a few seconds before he does this, and it gives me a chance to prepare myself even if I'm never going to be ready. I thought I would mess it up the first time, but we couldn't stop kissing until we couldn't breathe. I move towards him, mirroring his actions as our lips touch, smoothly moulding together. It makes me forget my own name because I don't have the strength to know anything other than him and how he feels like the longest summer days with sunsets and sunrises and running your fingers through chilled water at beaches and pools. I know warmth and rain washing away every ounce of pain I have ever felt, even if he's caused some if it. I think of a home that doesn't have walls, and giving in to the sweetest weakness that has made me okay again. My grin doesn't subside but he doesn't stop kissing me, pressing his mouth to the corners of my curved lips and to my chin and under my nose. This makes me smile more and he laughs gently, uncrossing his legs so we can sit closer together. His fingers lace through m one and I want to ask him about Amanda but I can't think of the right words. I don't know if there are right words, but if I keep putting it aside every time he's here, I'll never ask and keep waiting until he decides to tell me, which might take a while. Even as I'm about to talk, I don't want him to stop kissing me.

He pulls away first and gives me the chance, but our hands are still together and he's still close to me and I'm still distracted, but I need to ask him.

"This is probably going to sound weird, but I've obviously never been in a relationship with anyone before and I don't know if you're still with Amanda, but I was wondering if we were... I don't know, together or something?" I realise I'm babbling half way through and I've only just begun, but I still don't stop talking. Trying to make sense of my own words just makes less sense. "I just don't know what's happened with Amanda and if you still like her or something and maybe you like me too? It's not that I'll be angry if you're still with her, but I don't want to be the person you only come to when she's not around and I don't really want you cheating on her - or me, even if we're not really dating - and I should probably stop talking, but I'm just letting you know that I know nothing at this point."

He's smirking at me, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth so sinfully, my stomach twists. My face has reddened, but I'm not as embarrassed as I thought I would be because he isn't making fun of me or mocking me.

"I don't know," he says, scratching the back of his neck. His eyes stay locked on mine and it calms my nerves. "I like you... A lot, actually. I didn't really understand it first and I didn't want to, and I still don't really understand it but I know I like being with you." He chuckles, but his smile quickly fades when he looks down at our hands. The frown erases every good feeling I had and there's a heaviness weighing down my chest. "But my dad..." He starts without looking at me and I'm already ill. I start to wonder if I shouldn't have asked or said anything because he might not kiss me anymore after this. "He'd hate me, and so would my friends. This is going to come out really wrong, but I can't be in a relationship with a guy."

My eyebrows crease together and I let go of his hand because I hoped he would say anything but that. I thought he would say the complete opposite of that because he's the first person to look at me like I matter and like they don't want me to leave.

"So what?" I ask, aware of the coolness settling against my palm that replaces his warmth.

"I like you, but we can't be together like that." He tells me. His voice is quiet and guilty, but I only feel angry with him. "I have to stay with Amanda, I can't risk everything with my friends and with my dad."

I stand up, and already feel my chest tightening against my lungs and I need air or I might pass out. He didn't show me any signs that he didn't want to be with me before. Not even ten minutes ago he was holding my hand and kissing me and in the past few days he was wishing he didn't have to leave me so we could be together longer.

" _What_?"

"I'm really sorry," he says, but a lump still rises in my throat. Sorry will never be enough to make up for the fact that he's been giving me false hope this entire time. He's placing tissue on wounds that need layers of stitches.

"Why would you do all this with me if you don't want me like that?"

He shakes his head and stands with me to get closer, but I take a step away. I knew before this that getting close to him is dangerous, I just enjoyed it more when I thought he'd keep kissing me.

"I didn't say I didn't want you." He speaks, trying to reach our for me again. I don't let him. "I want to be with you."

I fold my arms across my chest so he can't touch me and ignore the stinging in my eyes and chest and nerves so I don't fall apart in front of him.

"But you _can't_?" It comes out as a question when I know my answer. I'm goddamn stupid to believe that he'd drop everything to be with me. He doesn't want a relationship and he's told me that before, so I don't know why I think he'd want a relationship with a guy. Still, if he didn't kiss me I wouldn't think that in the first place. If he didn't act like I made him smile again then I wouldn't assume anything.

I turn away from him the second tears begin to burn my eyes. I don't want him to see me cry.

"Just leave," I say. My body is shaking and I'm too weak around him to control myself. If he touches me I'm scared I'll let him comfort me and kiss me and make me believe that it's okay to be with a person who thinks this is wrong.

"Marcel-"

"Please go."

"Turn around." He touches my shoulder and I pull back before his warmth can linger. "Please?"

I swallow the lump in the throat and look to him, only seeing his frown deepen. We've been here too many times before, only this is under a different circumstance and there's more pain because there used to be so much hope.

"Is this what you want?" I ask. My hands are shaking like separate hurricanes are occurring in each palm and no amount of strength can overcome each gust of air. "I used to be like this all the time with you. You hurt me so much and I thought you finally stopped and I thought you cared about me. How could you say all this?"

He shakes his head and begs, "Please don't do this."

He's gripping onto my arms and keeping me in place while I try to move away. He won't let me get far, forcing his lips onto mine to stop my anxious words and I want it to feel like hatred, even if it doesn't.

 _He doesn't want you. You're not good enough_.

I put my hands on his chest and force his body away from mine before I can't stop him. Our lips part and frost builds up inside me, but I ignore it as we separate farther because I can't let him in like this.

"I'm not going to do this." I try to speak firmly, but my voice quivers because he keeps looking at me and it's hard to find strength around him. "Go."

He steps closer to me, but I can't let him anymore.

"Marcel-"

"No," I deny. It hurts to talk just like it hurts to stop myself from crying. "I _can't_ do this with you. There's no point if you think we shouldn't. Everything will turn to shit and I'll feel worse than I do now. It's stupid."

He takes a step back from me as words run over in my head. They try to convince me that he's not worth it, even if he's the only person I can think of being worthy enough.

"Do you know how many people in my life wouldn't even look at me if they found out I was with a guy?" He asks and my jaw clenches because he's only thinking of himself again and he doesn't realise that other people are going to have problems too.

"You don't think people would be out of my life too if they found out?" I fire back. Even if he has more to lose, he can't go his whole damn life pretending like he can love those girls. "I'll never be in a relationship that everyone is going to accept. That's just what happens sometimes and I don't have control over it, and neither do you."

"That's because people are fucked up," he says, but his words don't bring any source of tranquility. I just breathe harder. None of this is comforting like it is when he usually talks to me. "That's why we're not suppose to be together."

"But you want to, right?" I ask, even though I know his answer from before. I need to hear it again because everything he's been saying contradicts that and I've waited years to be wanted by somebody.

"Of course I do!" He says, raising his voice and runs his fingers through his hair. "I just can't stand the thought of my dad and my friends fucking _hating_ me for being with someone!"

He wants to be with me but he doesn't want me enough to be with me. He'd rather be with people that don't accept him or care about him like I do.

"Well if you'd rather be with friends who treat you like shit for being yourself than be with someone who actually cares about you, I think you should leave." I say, the words burning their way up my throat and spitting out of my mouth like venom.

"Fuck!" He yells, throwing his fist at my wall before turning away from me, pacing.

" _What_?" I scream. "It's not like we're going to walk around every day flaunting that were together - I'm fucking terrified if people find out too! I can handle waiting a little longer, but I'm sure as hell not waiting forever." He doesn't say anything, his chest rapidly raising and falling with each breath. "At least I can admit that I'm gay! You've been so damn homophobic that you can't even accept that you like guys."

"Why the hell are you doing this?" He asks, and his muscles are straining against his skin, making it difficult for him to move smoothly. He moves closer to me and holds my hands. He doesn't let me move away.

"You kept kissing me, remember?" I yell. My vision is blurry but I don't want to be so weak in front of him but he's still touching me and the reminder of what his skin feels like is enough to make my knees weak. "You were holding my hand and you were making me feel like you wanted me! Is this some fucking game to you?"

He cringes at my words, but doesn't let go.

"I wasn't lying to you when I said all that and did those things, I swear." He pleads. I don't know why he's saying this like he wants forgiveness when he's going to be the one walking away from me. He's the one leaving me so he should go before he makes things worse. "I hate being in a relationship with Amanda."

I look at him in disbelief, pushing him off me with the smallest bit of strength I have left. He's so oblivious to everything that's been happening.

"That's because she's a girl!" I cry, pulling at the roots of my hair in frustration. "You can't force yourself to love her or any other woman for the rest of your life! Even if I'm not what you want - there's going to be more guys that will _all_ feel better than her. This isn't something that disappears and you should know that by now."

"That's not the point-"

" _Then what is_?" I interject, putting more space between us. "It makes me ill knowing that you think all your friends are more important, even when they couldn't give a shit about you." He shakes his head, and I want to tear my way into his head to know what he's thinking because he sure as hell isn't telling me. "I've never treated you like they have and I don't want to be with you if I'm going to be a second choice the entire time." He looks like he wants to cry but he's forcing it away like everything else. "Leave." I say, but he doesn't move.

"I can't-" he starts, but his voice catches and I hope he doesn't finish the sentence.

" _Go_." I repeat and he throws his hands up, ripping his gaze from me.

He leaves without saying anything else and I can't breathe. I clutch into my body, but my clothes stick to my skin and I can't get comfortable. If he was here and he let himself be with me I wouldn't feel any of this. I haven't felt any of this in so long, but I don't miss it like I miss him. The front door shuts and his car pulls away and my cries feel like screams. They might be screams, but they never leave my head. It gets louder and every nerve throbs, begging for the freedom I've never been able to provide. Louis was the first person to give me freedom, but I'm captive in the four walls that get smaller and smaller the farther he gets from me. Air leaves my body and doesn't come back and there's no escaping it because I've never taught myself how to _get out_.

I don't want to let him take so much of me, but everything I am dissipates the longer and father he's gone. I'm tied to him in every way possible but he doesn't come back and loosen the strings to relieve the rope burn making the deepest wounds. It's too much effort to come back to a person you never wanted in the first place, so I don't know why I expect to hear his footsteps up the stairs again. I ache and my veins burn, but I don't have oceans to extinguish the flames anymore. I gasp for oxygen so much I think I might die, pulling at my clothes and beg for my lungs to expand a little further. The hurricanes in my hands are named after him and my ribs rattle into earthquakes. Each disaster moves mountains and I'm convinced falling stones pierce my body until there's empty craters resting inside me where he used to me. The shaking doesn't stop until I'm pulling blankets over my head with a blurry vision and throbbing mind.

Still, I sit in bed for hours and I can't bring myself to forget any part of him.

 

Louis' POV

I picture my car taking the shape of a tree on the way home and I hope my dad yells at me loud enough that I can hate Marcel. The corners of my vision are red and I probably shouldn't be driving but I might walk out in the middle of all the fucking traffic if I get out of my car.

I can't stand leaving him and seeing him so angry that he had to cry. He kept swearing at me and the words sounded so foreign and disgusting coming from his beautiful lips. He wasn't made to say things like that and he wasn't made to be furious with me, but I keep walking out on him when I should be holding him and kissing him like I'm supposed to. I'm supposed to forget about Amanda and my shitty friends and my dad and be with him because I thought it was the only thing I knew how to do, but obviously I've fucked that up too. I hate myself for thinking about everyone else's opinion of me before his. He should be the only person that fucking matters but I'm too obsessed with having everyone pleased with me that I never think of the right things and I'm so fucking stupid to let him go. I don't know how the hell he's going to forgive me after everything I've said to him and the things I've done and everything that I used to do. I backed us up to a year ago when I'd push him around and call him a fag for no damn reason.

I laugh to myself at the irony of calling him that. I was so naïve and I still am. If I was brave enough I wouldn't give a shit about any one else, but that's all I'm thinking about. I like kissing boys and I think about having sex with them and I pretend to love my girlfriend so my father will like me more and I call kids fags in front of my friends so they'll think I'm funny and I hide in closets and cry in vehicles and think of green eyes and full lips and fucking everything up and making too many mistakes and never being able to fix any of them or myself.

I think of never being able to fix myself.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The balance beam.

Songs for this chapter:

 [FOOLS - Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxg222-hWWc)

[1000 Years - Liza Anne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uUBJQXrscM)

[Love You Goodbye - One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bY3Yybhphc)

 

My eyes are dry, swollen, and red when I walk into the school the next morning. The air in my bedroom last night chilled me from the outside in and three hours of sleep wasn't enough for even an ounce of relief. Every time my eyes were closed I could see and hear him yelling and feel how much I made him hurt. I haven't been in that much pain my entire damn life. Being mad at him for forcing all that shit on me was my first decision, but after I thought of his words instead of him yelling, I now hate the fact that he's right. I chose my piece of shit friends over him and didn't even think about being wrong. I chose him over them so many times but this was the most important time. I should have known I was being fucking stupid and I sure as hell shouldn't think this is wrong.

I know I like kissing him and the idea of being with him more than I'd like being with a girl, but my thoughts aren't the only thing in my head. I want him more than I've wanted anyone, but the second the word "gay" is spoken, I want to deny everything. I hate it. I don't want to hate it because it's true, and I probably wouldn't even give a shit if the word didn't exist. If it didn't, that would mean no one would care if I liked guys. They'd be fucking proud that I like someone this much. Still, I should stop imagining shit that doesn't exist or I'll be with him and pretend it's true. I'm already convinced I'm going to Hell before this, so I don't care about religion and God, even if he might exist.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Trent asks, laughing while he keeps his voice low. "You look hungover."

I shake my head and wish I was hungover. That way, I'd be more distracted on my pounding head and having a good time last night than screaming at the only person I've cared about in years and crying because I fucked up, even if I had the choice to make things right.

"I didn't sleep much last night," I tell him, rubbing my dry eyes. It only makes them hurt more.

"What the hell were you doing? Sam tried ringing you to come by. The whole team was hanging out."

My temples throb when I hear Marcel's yelling voice and know he thinks he isn't good enough now and I can still see his tears like he's crying right in front of me and I'm still a fucking lunatic.

"My parents had people over and I needed to be home." I lie, but I wouldn't be so fucked up if I stayed at home. Marcel wouldn't hate me like he does and I sure as hell wouldn't hate myself.

"Shitty," he replies with no sympathy and I'm already looking around the locker room for Marcel. I can't see him anywhere and I doubt he's late. He knows I'm in here and I guess avoiding me is better than seeing me look like shit.

I don't want to think it's wrong. I can breathe when I'm with him, but I don't want to be gay. No one will understand and I can't see anyone giving a shit about me anymore because of this small factor that would suddenly define every part of who I am. I'll lose all the people I have in my life right now and part of me thinks being with Marcel will be worth it, but we're just going to be alone and I don't know how that would be worth it. We won't ever be able to be together and be completely happy because I'll only think of how my life could be if I didn't say anything in the first place.

I get changed like I'm not being yelled at to hurry up, going outside to meet everyone that's still waiting for me. Marcel is opposite of me around Mr. Walton and he noticeably keeps his gaze away from me. He looks equally as exhausted as I do, if not worse. I want him to look at me as much as I want him to talk to me and touch me and kiss me all over again. We could be doing that if he never asked if we were in a goddamn relationship, leaving out all the screaming and yelling. I don't want to hate who I am this much, but that doesn't mean being with him makes me numb.

"Did the schools get back to you yet?" I look over as we all set up for the game, and Adam has his eyebrows raised at me. "I'm pretty sure they're preparing for you to be the first one accepted."

I try to smile, but it's so weak it hurts.

"They haven't said anything yet," I tell him. This is a reminder of another thing I have to stress over and I'm starting to hate him too for it. I might hate anyone that talks to me today. "They're coming for the tournament in March and if I do okay I should be on the team."

If I do something other than football, I'll be fucking miserable for the rest of my damn life and since I've already been deprived of Marcel, so I don't think I can handle any more torment. I've been working towards this since I was a kid and all the effort I put into the sport would be for nothing.

When Adam notices my distance on the subject, he drops it and changes the topic. I'm too busy thinking of other things and other people, so no matter what he says, I have short replies and distracted answers.

Class ends, andy by this time Marcel has done a proper job at pretending like I don't exist and I've done shitty at acting like it doesn't matter. I keep looking at him and waiting for him to see me, but he's so far away from me I'm sure we could shove the entire world between us. In some way, I think the entire world is what separated us to begin with.

I walk to my next class slowly, wondering how I'm going to sit by him for an entire hour without doing anything. I won't get to talk to him and I can't laugh with him and I'm sure if I asked him any questions he might blatantly ignore me. I think I might deserve it all, but _God_ , I've never wanted forgiveness more in my entire life.

"Did you make your husband angry?" Sam asks as he walks by me. He nudges his head to the side, getting me to look over at Marcel.

I have to look away.

"He's pissed at me," I say simply. If I said anything else to anyone, today will only get shittier.

"What did you do this time?" He laughs. "Were you not 'in the mood' last night? Didn't let him kiss you goodnight?"

I frown, even though the real story is similar. He tried to kiss me and I liked it so much I thought it was wrong.

"I didn't do anything," I answer numbly. That's the biggest lie I've told in a while, since I'd rather Marcel be mad at me over nothing than mad at me over this. "Just drop it."

He laughs and brushes it off, and I step into our next class with my eyes already settling on Marcel. His back faces me and even as I slide into my desk, he keeps his eyes forward. We sit in silence for what feels like hours, and I'm repeating what I should say over and over in my head until I get the balls to tell him. I can't stand him ignoring me, and I'm not going to get the chance to talk to him any time I want. He probably won't let me over to his house anymore and I'm sure he can barely stand being around me right now. I just want him to look at me again.

"Marcel," I begin, and he stiffens, but his eyes don't move. I look towards him and shift over so the people behind us can't see. I touch his arm, and he immediately moves it away from me. "Marce, please." I beg, even if I don't know what I'm asking. I want him to talk to me, but I don't know what I want him to say. I should be apologizing, but I can't say sorry while I'm still unsure if I'm even guilty. There would be no guilt if I hadn't made him feel shitty, but I did. Either way I'm still gay and too scared to admit it to anyone, even the guy I've infatuated myself with. He still pretends I'm not here and my entire body aches like I've been running for miles, but the marathon won't end until I can accept myself. "Marce, please talk to me." I plead, and watch his chest shake while he exhales.

He finally looks at me, but his cold gaze doesn't stop the suffering. Frost grows in my lungs and around each of my ribs until everything begins to shiver.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, keeping his voice low. His green eyes have faded to grey and there's lilac half circles beneath them. He's lifeless because of all I've taken from him, and he's still expecting me to take more.

I shake my head and wish we were alone to talk about it because that way I could hold his hand and have him closer to me and make sure he doesn't pull away without people staring.

"Nothing - not like that." My voice cracks and I don't know how I fucked myself over so bad, pretending I was doing everything perfectly fine. I thought I didn't want to be in a relationship with a guy and I thought my life would go on as usual without him and I thought I knew everything, but now I want it all to change. I want to be able to kiss him and hug him and hold him again without having to admit that I'll never like girls because if I say something to someone, my parents will eventually find out then my friends and everybody I've come into contact with and people I don't even know won't be able to stand looking at me. I want him to be my secret so we could kiss each other while we're alone and pretend like we're the only two people in the world. I want to be happy with him and be able to feel again without worrying what people might think of me. "I want you to know I'm sorry," I tell him, only realising I sound like a bigger piece of shit after.

He scoffs and forces a laugh, tearing his gaze away from me again.

"You're _sorry_?" He repeats, looking down at his hands. "Do you expect me to forgive you?"

My throat swells and I can't take much of this any longer.

"I'm a terrible fucking person, and I don't expect you to ever forgive me for that." I tell him. Tears burn my eyes and I have to blink them away before I start bawling like a fucking child. "I just miss you," I whisper so no one can hear and he looks at me with every muscle in his body clenched, tightening them to the strength of diamonds so I can't break him anymore. I don't want to break him anymore but it seems like no matter what I do, I'm always trying to chip away at his surface.

He doesn't say anything, turning away from me as class starts, so if I try talking to him the teacher will only get angry with me. I can't focus on what's going on, only focusing on my mistakes until I almost cry again - which then happens several times during the entire class. Marcel doesn't look at me and I have to pretend like I don't care because we're the only two people in the entire damn world that knows about how we kissed and laughed and held each other and said things that mean too much to be safe.

At lunch, Amanda quickly finds me and attaches herself to my hip. I have the urge to push her away, but her head rests on my shoulder and we're supposed to be dating and I'm supposed to like her, so I leave her be. I'm already uncomfortable after the familiar understanding of how Marcel never feeling like she does. Even if he doesn't want me with him anymore, I'm not going to start enjoying her company again.

"We should go on a date tonight." She suggests, her voice full of a forlorn hope. I look down at her and raise my eyebrows because we haven't gone on a date since we first got together and I didn't think couples did that shit after they've been together for a while. It's not like a fucking date with her will make this day improve either. She has to know that I'm not going to pay more attention to her than I am right now.

"Why?" I ask, looking for some way I could get her off me that won't end in another fight. "We're already dating."

Her laugh is annoyingly loud and high and I almost roll my eyes.

"But we're always out with our friends or something." She goes on. "We never do much alone or anything romantic."

 _Romantic_.

I could gag at the word.

"It's fun hanging out with friends though." I insist. There's no way in hell she's going to get me to go anywhere alone with her. If anything, we'll be alone so I can fucking break up with her. I can't stand being around her anymore, and thinking of Marcel the whole damn time makes me miss him even more.

"No it's not," she denies, wrinkling her nose. "Come on, let's just go for dinner or-"

"I'm just not in the mood for anything, okay?" I interrupt before she can get the idea that she's going to get me to pretend like I love her.

She sighs dramatically and removes her head from my shoulder, letting go of my hand like she's done before when she doesn't get things from me. My mood immediately lightens, even if she's pissed off at me. I seem to be a happier person when she is.

We sit at our table and no one comments on Marcel, which is rare. Amanda doesn't act angry with me, which is also rare, and I don't want to talk to anyone, which isn't rare at all. I barely say two words for the rest of the day, terrified that I'll blurt Marcel's name when I'm not thinking clearly. He's been on my mind every damn second, and because I'll never get enough of him or get him at all anymore, I go home with the aching need to sleep him away. My eyes are pulsing and the lids heavily droop over my hazy vision. My head hasn't stopped throbbing since I woke up this morning either and I should be exhausted, but I still lay on my mattress and stare at my ceiling. My body is sore and my hands are deprived of his along with every other part of him.

I can't stand what I did the longer I'm alone, realising I'm stupid for hating him and stupid for hating myself. Both things I can't change and shouldn't want to. I can admit liking guys when I'm alone but it's ridiculous to keep telling myself I don't want to be gay. There's no way in hell I've felt something for girls, and I'm completely sure of that after kissing Marcel. Even if I try repeating it thousands of times, I get ill when I think of how weird my dad acted every time I've said I'm going out to Marcel's or whenever I even mention his goddamn name. I don't know how many times Sam has joked about calling me a fag and how he wouldn't hesitate to repeatedly say it to me if he found out it's true.

My throat swells when my thoughts transfer to how different my life would be if I knew earlier. If I was a kid and I fancied some boy that hung around me a lot, I might have tried to kiss him thinking it was normal, and he'd tell everyone. I'd still be living in this town, and everyone would see me as the fag that was always alone. My dad would have taken me to church on a regular basis even if he's never been religious and beat me bloody until my mum screamed at him to stop. He would have divorced her and given her custody over me. I would have never played football because all the other guys would tease me and toss me around. I wouldn't have any friends, maybe one or two that I'd only talk to in school. I'd wake up wishing I was asleep every fucking day and Marcel would have moved here and we could have been together for a year by now. We'd be best friends and everyone would hate us and maybe we'd cry, but maybe we'd be okay. I'd either be okay or just as fucking miserable as I am now.

Thinking about being with him is more comfortable than anything else I've done. Even if we hid behind closet doors for a while, I'd be better with having him around and kissing him instead of some girl I've forced myself to tolerate. I'm gay and there's no way in hell that will be changing. I don't give a shit if my dad leaves because he's never really been there anyway, and if my dad's gone then that means Marcel can be around. He'll be happy with me like he's been before, smiling like he used to and laughing like he's never felt pain. I don't know how I've gone today only watching him frown, but tears burn the sides of my face when they trickle down my cheeks to my ears and down my jaw and down my neck until I wipe them away, sitting up.

I grab my phone and when I pull up Marcel's contact, I don't think of anything but who he is and who I am when we're together. I've never known what it's like to have someone care about me until he was with me. I didn't know what it was like to even care about myself, even if I acted like I only gave a shit about myself. I want to have him back so I'm not so damn miserable all the time. I need him back or I'm going to spend the next few years wondering what could have happened if I didn't walk away from him.

The phone rings and rings until it goes to voicemail, then I hang up when I hear his recorded voice. My chest shakes and I don't want cry any harder, ringing back until he answers. I'll wait all damn night until I can hear him talking to me again. I get his voicemail a second time, then third time, and he finally picks up on the fourth.

"Hello?" He answers. I can hear a crowd of people murmuring quietly around his prominent voice, but I hope he doesn't use it as an excuse to hang up.

"It's Louis," I say, praying that he wasn't ignoring each call because he knew it was me.

"Sorry - I can't hear you," he tells me. "Just one minute."

There's a static noise for a second until a door closes and it gets quiet again.

"Sorry about that - who did you say this is?" He asks again and I bite the inside of my cheek. He could hang up the second I say my damn name if he wanted to.

I clear my throat and repeat my last sentence anyway.

"It's Louis," I answer, and I can't even hear him breathing. My eardrums ring and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for a dial tone.

"Oh," he says, his voice low and quiet. "Why are you-"

He cuts himself off and I'm just thankful we've made it past five seconds.

"I'm sorry I said I didn't want to be with you." I blurt. I have no grand speech full of bravery and courage, so every single word will be messy and unorganized as my thoughts.

"Louis," he begins, sighing in frustration. "I don't want to fight with you."

I wipe my eyes again and pinch my thigh so I can stop myself from crying.

"Then don't," I plead. "Just forgive me. I was being fucking stupid and I wasn't thinking right. I was scared of everyone finding out and I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry."

I can hear him breathing now, but it's just as shaky as his voice.

"I don't know how I can forgive you this time." He tells me and I'm surprised he's even having a conversation with me, but I'm not going to give up on him because he says he can't forgive me. He has to forgive me or I'll go mad and become so numb people will slip me six feet under with a broken heart that still beats.

"I know I fuck up a lot - but I'm getting better. You know I'm getting better." I reply, my voice cracking. I planned on being strong, but that doesn't seem to be working out. I never fucking cry, but that's all I tend to do when it comes to him lately.

"I can't just keep forgiving you. I never know if it's the last time with you, Louis." He says, frustrated that I keep making the same mistakes. "I really don't want to do this right now-"

"Please don't hang up," I beg. My hand is squeezing my thigh and my fingernails dig so deep they might leave marks. "I promise to be good for you. I'm not ready to tell anyone and I know you aren't either, but I know we'll have to eventually. I don't care about my dad, it's not like he gives a shit about me anyway."

I can feel his frown, wanting to deny it, but he knows the truth. He couldn't give a single shit about what happens to me.

"Why are you saying all this now?" He asks. "Why couldn't you tell me when I asked you?"

I wish I knew the answer.

"I don't know," I admit, still squeezing at my leg hard enough to imprint mauve bruises. "I can't stand it when people don't like me and you know that, Marce."

"So what made you change your mind all of a sudden?" He wonders. "How can you think that you can leave me and come crawling back with an apology?"

His words cut deep into my core and dig out all the thoughts I've suppressed these past few weeks.

"I don't know - I just-"

 _I just don't know_.

"You're all I want," I insist, my voice cracking. "So much it hurts every fucking part of me."

"How do I know that isn't going to change?" He wonders. "I've never had something consistent with you. We're always fighting and yelling at each other or perfectly happy, but you're _always_ changing your mind. I don't doubt that you eventually won't want me because of that."

"That's not true," I deny, and more tears pooling in my eyes even if I know he's wrong. "Even when I started liking you, I couldn't fucking stand myself, but I never doubted how much I wanted you. No matter how hard I try, you mean so much to me."

"Don't say that," he utters, voice thick and burdened with all the sorrow I've piled on his shoulders. "I really don't want to do this-" He's interrupted by someone and I know he's leaving me all over again. "I'll be out in a minute," Marcel tells the person, and he's quiet a little longer before getting back to me. "I have to go."

My heart thrums in my chest and I shake my head.

"Where are you?" I ask.

"This thing for my mum - she's calling me out and I can't stay in here all night."

"Please keep talking to me, I promise I'll make it up to you-"

"Louis, I just-" he stops himself and I'm going to hate whatever he'll say next. "You're the only person that's made me the happiest and saddest I've ever been." His pause is too long and I hold my breath and think about hanging up so I don't have to hear the end of it. "Right now, one of those things outweigh the other and that's why I can't do this anymore."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Lou. I'm so sorry. I have to go." His voice trembles as much as my hands do, but they're not weak enough to let go of him.

"Do you want to talk later?" I ask, pulling at the roots of my hair.

He breathes deeply and I already know the answer.

"Goodbye, Louis."

He hangs up and I listen to the dial tone longer than I've been able to say he was mine.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired of sleeping alone.

 

Songs for this chapter:

[Just a Little Bit of Your Heart - Ariana Grande](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0-50nRyuy8)

[Don't Let Me Go - Harry Styles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hTOAo_bfeg)

[Friends - Ed Sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Myaod6GC4U)

[If I Could Fly - One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0zT5NKIhTtc)

 

Louis' POV

Everyone crowds around Mr. Walton as he lectures us on being more prepared, still looking the same as he did yesterday, and three years ago. I'm not listening, still at the back of the crowd after getting Marcel to stay beside me, no matter how much he's tried to get away. He's said multiple times that he's done talking, but I'm not. If he thinks I can let go of him that easily he must be mad, because I've never given up anything like this.

"I told you it was too much, Louis." He says. "You can't change your mind thinking everyone will just accommodate you."

His words burn, but I won't let them be true. I don't want to leave him and I'm not going to keep changing my mind.

"I don't think that. I didn't have any time to decide anything so I panicked." I tell him, our voices so low we can barely hear each other.

"Well I'm not okay with being a second choice for as long as you want me to be. I'll never think that's okay." He sneers, folding his arms across his chest. He has no clue that I want to be with him more than anyone else.

Mr. Walton cuts off our conversation, assigning Sam and I as captains and sending me away from Marcel.

"You can pick your teams and as always, make sure they're fair." He says, then points towards me. "Choose first."

I don't have the think about it, already looking in his direction. "Marcel," I say, and I his head snaps up at the back of the group. He frowns and slowly walks towards me after Sam punches my arm playfully.

"Good fucking luck," he jokes and I roll my eyes, happy with my choice.

Marcel stands beside me as we keep picking people, clearly embarrassed that everyone is looks at us the entire time.

"What is this about?" He whispers, and I've had my reason long before a smile crawls onto my lips.

"First choices," I tell him, watching his face soften, but his emerald eyes dart away. I grin at the idea of making the smallest bit of a difference, still hopeful that I'll be able to change his mind completely. I know I'll be able to put him before everyone someday soon, even if that doesn't mean I'm going to go around shouting 'I'm gay' tomorrow. I'll to everything I can to convince him that I'm going to be worth it because I don't have to question his worth anymore. Even if our relationship ended in hatred and screaming and yelling, I'd be happy I got the chance to call him mine before anyone else did.

We start the game and Marcel tries to ignore me, doing a terrible job whenever I talk to him because he starts blushing and flashing small smiles. I don't take his short replies for granted either. For all I know, this is all he's going to say to me today. There's no doubt that I'm going to try to get him alone with me again, but it's not like I can force him to be somewhere with me.

Marcel gets us a point near the end of it all and we win, leaving Sam unnecessarily pissed that he's in second place again. Marcel becomes all smiles, and immediately sees me to find a look of approval. His eyes are shining stars and I picture a gold crown on his head because he doesn't look any less than a prince. Grinning, I give him a thumbs up like nothing has ever been wrong, but his crescendo of excitement fades to a dull hum. He remembers everything that's gone wrong, and he flashes me a tight smile that isn't as bright as the sun like it used to be. I look away before I can start pushing him to be happy with me again. He clearly wants his distance and I'll give it to him until I go insane, but I'm already on the brink of madness.

At the end of class, I think I'm going to explode so I catch him on the way out while he tries to walk faster than me. I jog to catch up and take hold of his shoulder so he can't move to far, but he still doesn't want to be near me.

"You can't always avoid me," I insist, taking extra large steps to match his long-legged pace.

"How many times do I have to tell you-"

"So much you'll get sick of every damn word." I interrupt.

He stops walking and looks at me with an esoteric expression, all the people around us making their way around our bodies like we don't exist. It's good to know how that feels for a few seconds, but his green eyes have a smooth glass layer developing and lavender moons beneath each one. Still, nothing can take away how breathtaking he always looks. I'll never understand how I didn't see it before.

He abruptly folds his fingers around my wrist and pulls me off to the side with smooth delicacy. We walk down the hall, to where the students begin to thin out as they warm the seats of their desks. He steps into a goddamn closet and turns the light on, locking the door behind us.

I look up at him and raise my eyebrows, sighing heavily.

"Really? You want to talk in here?" I question, examining the diminutive area that's smells of ages books and bleach, like nothing could mask the dry aroma. Brown boxes of old things people have forgotten are resting on the shelves and dust particles float around the topaz light on the ceiling until the force of gravity pulls them down to collect on each box.

"No one can see us," he tells me, and his expression shifts to an unfamiliar patronisation. "Isn't that what you want?"

I cringe and bite my tongue because he isn't the least bit guilty for saying that, but he shouldn't be. I don't deserve his kindness.

"I want to be happy with you, Marce," I speak. The yellow light makes his skin seem paler and the shadows cause a sunken, lifeless appearance grazes against his beauty.

"But only if I promise never to say something? If I pretend like we're just friends in class or pretend like we don't even care about each other?" He corrects, and it pains me because that's what I wanted yesterday. I don't know what the hell I was thinking, but I want _him_ now. I want him always.

"I didn't mean for everything to come out like that." I tell him, unaware if this counts as a lie. "I want to be with you and I'm not ready to say anything to anyone, but I know you aren't either. We can be together and work everything out, but I'm not going to let myself fuck everything up again."

"You already have," he denies, a frown set deep between his brows. "I want to forgive you because you've changed your mind, but that's all you're ever doing. You make me feel like you want me and then a day later it's like I'm too boring for you and you couldn't be bothered."

He's starting to get shaky again and I hold his hands so he breathes. I want him to keep looking at me and I don't want to him to panic. I should be able to calm him down, not make him nervous and scared.

"I'm not going to be like that anymore." I promise, holding him close to me.

"How do I know that?" He wonders, pushing hair out of his watering eyes. "Yesterday you made it seem like you were _ashamed_ of me, and I started to think you were. I still do."

I shake my head and swipe away his tears with my thumb. The cold drop burns my thumb and I'm desperate to make him smile and laugh again. He doesn't deserve any pain.

"I'm not ashamed of you," I deny, but he still can't look at me. "I'd never be ashamed of you."

He tries to bite back his sobs, but his entire body goes rigid.

"Then why do you keep trying to hide me?" He asks, and he's still crying no matter how much effort he puts into staying strong.

"I wish I didn't have to hide any of this." I tell him. I can't say I'd show us off to everyone if I could, because we can't do that any time soon. "If no one cared about the whole gay thing we would have been holding hands down the hallways weeks ago."

"But we're never going to do it that easily." He reminds me, shaking his head. He let's go of my hand to wipe his wet cheeks, looking down at our feet. "Even if people we knew didn't really care after a while, you'd still be worried about what everyone else was thinking."

I don't want that to be true, because even if I worry about other people, I'll still want to be with him. Maybe that'll change someday and I won't care about who looks at us. Maybe we'll look amazing together and there won't be any room to care.

"I'm trying to be better for you." I say, keeping my eyes on him. He's going to disappear if I look anywhere else.

"That's all you're ever doing though." His hand grips mine to the point of strained muscles, but I let him hold me. "I'm so glad you're trying, but when nothing is happening I end up feeling like shit and I can't take it anymore."

I don't know what to say. If I tried harder, he'd have been smiling and kissing me right now. I was too idiotic to realise what I was losing when I left him and I'm still too stupid to know what to say to make him smile again. He keeps crying and I don't want to give up, but I've run out of words and the longer we're in silence, the more he cries. The quiet sobs rattle my eardrums and I hug him without thinking because even if he hates me and wants to beat his fists at my back to get me away, I never have the right words like he does and the only way I can show him how much he means is with everything _but_ speaking. It's probably damn confusing, but I've never known how to do anything else.

I slide my hands around his waist, letting my palms curve over his hips until they trail to his back, pressing our torsos together. He puts his arms around my neck and buries his face into the crook of my neck, no matter how much he hates what I've done. He welcomes one of the embraces we've had so little time to treasure and I memorize the way he feels against me so I don't count how many times I've fucked up our relationship. I let our bodies mould together and I can't even pretend we're happy this time because I want to fall to my knees in front of him. I'm too weak and we're going to leave each other again and I need to tell him that he's all I want without repeating the same things over and over, so I don't know what to do.

He still cries and I don't move. I absorb his warmth and consume as much as I can before it's too late. Our enfolding won't last as long as I hope, so I wish it does something to change his mind.

 

Marcel's POV

After the incident in the closet, I make sure Louis leaves before me so I can wipe my face and make sure I don't look like I've been sobbing from losing someone. I don't think he'd like it very much if we walked out together and someone saw us, so I assumed this was the best idea.

I only look forward to going home at the end of the day, but head straight into my bedroom and don't understand how I could be excited to stare at my wall in a deafening silence. I've stared at it more than I've stared at him in the past few days and it makes me ill. I want the cold, hard, unchanging thing to morph into his shape, but all that's left of him is a memory of his arms around me and his chest swelling as he breathes and his lips on mine and how deprived I've been of human contact every time our skin presses together. We were uncut works of art, sliced into pieces so quickly that I sit here second guessing if it ever happened.

At lunch, I sat away from Louis so he couldn't talk to me and convince me that he wouldn't mess anything up anymore, but he still looked at me when he walked by. Amanda had her fingers knotting through his and they sat next to each other and he tried to laugh while she smiled up at him and she kept kissing him to the point where I hated her. I could still see Louis forcing through his numb barrier until he appeared to be the loving boyfriend every other girl thinks he is. People still envy them, but I watched from the other side of the room and didn't know how she could compare to what we could've had.

I hear my front door open and there's footsteps up the stairs. I sit up and wipe my eyes so my mum doesn't see any tears, waiting for the knock on the door. It doesn't come, but it opens quickly and my heart is racing even before I look up. I can feel his tsunami stare before I see it, familiar with how much it would make my drown or stay afloat. I shift my position on my bed and curse at myself for telling him where the damn spare key was. I should have known he'd come here if he wanted to, and that he wouldn't ask because I would tell him not to come.

"What are you doing?"

He exhales, bottom lip shaking until a thick drop of water leaves a trail from his eye to his chin. He wipes it away quickly, but I'm never going to forget how it looked.

"We need to talk," he speaks quietly, and his voice has a rasp to it like he's been screaming for hours. I don't know what to do, but I think I nod because he sits down. He doesn't say anything and it only makes my heart beat faster, but he's so dangerously close that I want to kiss away his tears.

"What is it?" I ask. I keep my hands in my lap so I don't reach out for him and fall into him so he consumes all of me. His presence is enough to make me question my decisions and the fact that he's _crying_ and he _never_ cries is terrifying. It's instinctual that I want to hold him and make sure he's safe, but I can't do that right now so I stay where I am.

He looks at a spot on the wall ahead instead of at me. "Amanda kissed me today." My chest tightens and I remember it so vividly it feels like it's happening over and over again right in front of me. I'm pained to know I'm not the last person he kissed and I won't ever be. "I fucking hated it," he states, and I watch tears pool along his bottom lashes, threatening to flood his cheeks again. "She's so different, you know. You even taste better. And your mouth is softer. And you're so gentle with me." The laugh that escapes his lips could break hearts of the innocent. "It's like you think I'm going to break or something, when you're the only thing keeping me together."

A lump is already rising in my throat making it difficult to breathe and I don't know how I'm supposed to be next to him and hold myself together. I've gotten the smallest taste of what it's like to be with him and now I crave him whenever he's near. Even when he's out of reach, I want to do everything to track him down and have him next to me. I'm sure this is the closest thing I've gotten to a drug addiction, but it might be harder to get clean.

"Why do you keep trying to change my mind?" I ask, and he wipes at his glossy eyes before answering.

"Because I was at school and I realised how shitty my friends are because I can't remember the last time they gave a shit about how I felt. Then I kissed Amanda and realised the feeling of her got even worse now that I've got you as a comparison and every other girl will be just the same." He takes in a deep breath and with each second passing in time, I'm more weakened by him. I keep losing focus. "I was just at home and my dad was being shitty too, as if that's changed at anytime in my life."

"Louis-" My voice cracks. I want him to stop saying things like this. It'll make me change my mind and I want to be able to stay firm with my decision. I'm going to pity him because I'm the only one that's supported him completely and that can't happen when he's going to put all the shitty people ahead of me.

"This isn't the sympathy card, Marce," he tells me, finally lifting his head so we can make eye contact. His skin looks so much paler and his eyes have dulled to the colour of a raining sky. He's exhausted and torpid, and I half expect him to close his eyes and fall asleep if I wasn't here.

"I'm just telling you that it takes me time to figure shit out, but I promise I have it sorted now." He eagerly pleads me like I'm getting ready to leave. In a sense, I almost am. "I know glancing at you feels way fucking better than being around everyone else and I want you to know that you were never a second choice. You were the first choice since I found out how wrong I was about myself and you still are. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking before, but I was wrong and I wish you never believed a single word I said."

My body aches for him and all I can think of is how disastrously flawless he is and how utterly stupid I was to believe he'd never change my mind. I'm drawn to him even when he leaves and I think I'll be running back to him until my lungs are shot to hell. I need him to come back to me, aware that something else is going to inevitably happen and we're still going to fuck everything up every now and then, but I like being able to know that he's coming back to me after. I think about everything I knew of relationships and being with someone and can't remember why I gave the idea of it up in the first place. I forgot everything I told myself in the last few days and all I could see are his eyes, begging and pleading and still terrified as he continues to talk. I wonder how long it's been since he's told the truth to anyone and I wonder if I'm the first person he's ever felt he can trust.

"I'm gay," he admits, and his body trembled but it's the most I've heard him confess since I've known him. "I don't like being with girls and I'm never going to. I'm gay and I want you to know that it's going to be hard to tell that to everyone but you." I still haven't spoken, but I can't find words that would let him know what I want. It's shocking enough to hear this from him, because he hasn't been clear about what he wants until now. "I'm not ready to tell anyone and I really hope you understand that enough to stay with me." He says. He's crying more now and my body is so stiff my muscles are throbbing. "I know you understand that because you wouldn't ask me to chose you over my family. I don't care about my friends, but I need time to think about everyone else and what I want." He pauses and doesn't look away from me anymore, grey eyes piercing through mine. "I feel like I'm just not going to care after a while and I won't care who knows, but for now I want you to know that this isn't going to be a secret forever." He goes on - fingers fidgeting while he cries. "My friends aren't going to want me the way you do." My breathing comes easier and I slowly prepare myself to answer him, but the only words I know are the ones he's saying to me. "Even if they did want me like that, I'd still choose you." He speaks, looking down at his hands for a moment. "And if you want me to start telling people right away and can't handle waiting, I get it if you don't want to be with me, but I think I'd still come back to you whenever I am ready." He smiles faintly before wiping under his eyes again.

I have words in my head but they refuse to travel to my mouth. I can't do anything no matter how much I have to say to him. My empty throat burns and I just need to tell him something because he's here and he wants me and he's choosing me first and I don't have to be alone anymore.

"If you need time to think, I'll go." He stands after seeing my frozen body, eyebrows furrowing together at the loss that will grow if I don't move.

He begins to turn away, but my body jolts and I'm pulled out of my transfixion. I can finally take his hand before he's out of reach and stop him from walking away. He doesn't want to go away and I can let him stay this time. Hummingbirds are in my chest and he curves towards me again as I try to force words from my dry throat.

"Don't go," I beg. My voice comes out thick and hoarse, but every muscle and tendon in his body relaxes and smooths from the two words. "Stay with me."

He let's out a deep breath and comes towards me, sliding both his hands to my neck. I don't have to remember the way he touches me like it's the last time, because there aren't going to be any last times anymore. His thumbs gently stroke my face and my cheeks go cold as he brushes away my unnoticed tears, taking away any lingering torment. Bringing myself to my feet, my knees are weak but I can slip my arms around his waist to have him closer, pressing our bodies tightly together to feel his warmth seep through the chilled depths inside me. I bury my face in his neck to stop my tears, wondering what the hell is going on and how we got here. I tell myself there is no more waiting around with the fear of him never being able to want me or fear of him hating me for who I am or being a second choice for the rest of our time together, because he wants me and he couldn't hate me and I've been a first choice for so long neither of us noticed. It's the first time I've been picked first and I need more of him so I lift my head, barely getting a chance to look at him before he's kissing me. Any patience is resisted and I don't notice how destitute I was of his hands and his body pressing to mine and the rhythmical innervation he so easily provides me with. My mouth moves gently, soaking up everything that's happening like it's the first time kissing him again. He traces the crevices of my mouth with his tongue and emits an ardency I thought only existed in the books I read. I never imagined I'd feel it all from one person.

"You're so damn confusing, you know." I say, once we become all smiles and our kiss becomes all teeth.

"I'm so sorry," he apologises, still trying to get his lips on mine. "I'm not used to people wanting me like this, but I promise I'm going to be good for you."

He hugs me tightly, fingers lacing themselves through my hair. I'm sure he can feel and hear the vigorous vibrations in my chest when I press against his body, but I don't care to calm it down because it means I'm alive and I'm breathing and I don't have to live waiting for the end of the day or the week or the month. I'm happy where I am right now and I'm happy with Louis.

"We can't keep fighting like this, Louis." I tell him, pulling back so his eyes can drown me. "I know it's going to be hard, but we'll make each other miserable."

I smile and he nods, pulling back from our embrace.

"I'm going to be better," he insists, his thumbs moving back and forth beneath the cut of my jaw. "You can trust me this time."

I break out into a grin- overwhelmed with the need to kiss him again. I don't need to stop myself anymore, so I kiss him, and he laughs, and I'm happy all over again.

"So what do you want? Like - officially." He asks me, skimming his hands down my arms to lace our fingers together. "We're not friends, Marce. We can't ever be friends after this." He beams and bites down on his lip like he doesn't want to show me his sunshine smile, but the light still breaks through in ribbons and wraps around my body. "But we can be anything," he tells me, making all the weight in my chest disappear. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll want it too."

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and know what I've wanted before he kissed me for the first time.

"What if I wanted to hate you?" I joke and he grins, shaking his head.

"You don't want to hate me," he denies, pressing his mouth to the base of my neck. "You couldn't."

"I couldn't," I agree. My smile is lazy as his lips move up to my cheek and I'll never understand how every part of him fits against my every curve and bend. "I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you too," he says, and I'm still so focused on each of his kisses that I can't talk until he stops. He hasn't stopped gleaming and I hold his hand as we sit on my bed with our legs crossed. We're facing each other and I wish he was kissing me again.

"How are we going to do this?" I wonder, but he doesn't look in thought for too long.

"We're alone almost every day, we can make it work. We just have to close and lock the door more often."

I close my eyes with a soft smile across my lips, getting a second of relief that I've only experienced when he laughed the first time around me.

"Okay," I speak, and he leans forward to kiss me again, both of our restraint weakening with every touch.

We stay in my bedroom with the door locked and closed until the light pouring through the window darkens and the lamp beside my bed is the only thing illuminating his pale skin. We kiss too much for our own good and laugh until we can't breathe, abrading any rough edges each word of hatred may have caused. I'm exhausted by the end of the night, forcing my heavy eyelids open so I can watch him telling me stories and feel the pads of his fingers running along my arms and collarbones and exposed skin. I reach out to touch his tattoos and he tells me why and how he got them all and tries to tell me that we should get one together, but we're laying down and the pillow beneath my head is as soft as his chest, so I fall asleep to his resonation and have a dreams that make me smile, only remembering him saying my name the next morning.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Days [i] / Sharing Bits and Pieces

Songs for this chapter:

[Fire and the Flood - Vance Joy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKmWd8DPrEc)

[They Don't Know About Us - One Direction (bringing it back)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIFo7jKH8tc)

[Flowers in the Window - Travis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFvfX3Mfd9E) 

 

I wake up to a loud, incessant ringing that makes my heart race. My arm is shot out involuntarily, getting alarm off before it can get any more annoying and before my heart jumps out of my chest again. I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eye, keeping them closed because it hurts to pry them open. I'm still eager to look up for another body curled beside, good morning being spoken through flower petal lips, and eyes made of cloudless summer skies. Everything is blurry until I put my glasses on, but it's still hard to see once they rest on the bridge of my nose and I have to squint to adjust to the dim light slashing through the curtains. I slide my hand across my blanket and the spot beside me has a cold imprint of Louis' body from last night, so I pick up my phone with the strong sense that he wouldn't leave without telling me why.

I'm right, seeing a new notification from late last night.

_"*Apparently my tattoo stories bore you to sleep. I waited to see if you'd wake up again but my mum called and wanted me home so I had to leave. I don't want to say something like I already miss you, but it's annoying that I do xx*"_

I grin and didn't think I'd enjoy the last cheesy line, but I'll adore anything he says to me.

While I get into my uniform, my phone buzzes continuously and I have a brief moment of panic because barely anyone calls me, but I see Louis' name on the screen and I happily answer, glad his voice is the first I've heard this morning.

"It's kind of early for a phone call," I tell him, greeted with his quiet chuckles.

"I'm sure you were dying to hear my voice this morning." He teases, and I look in the mirror while I try to fix my tie and think of waking up like this more often.

"Of course. Although, it would have been more enjoyable than a blaring alarm clock." I agree, truly wishing he could have stayed with me last night.

"Well I'm deeply sorry," he jokes and I roll my eyes, taking a seat in the chair by my desk. I spin back and forth and think of him too much for my own good.

"So why have you gifted me with this morning phone call?" I question, smiling brightly as I trace circles on a blank sheet of paper.

"I was wondering if I could come to yours so we could talk before class? Unless you want to do it over the phone," he suggests and I frown at the sudden change in tone. He's more solemn and less excited than he was a minute ago.

"Is everything okay?" I already think of all the things that could possibly go wrong - especially that he's changed his mind. I shouldn't be thinking of that because he sounded fine at the beginning of the call, but maybe he thinks I won't be upset with him.

"Yeah. Well, sort of?" The statement raises into a question and he laughs to himself when I can't bring myself to smile. "I don't know. It's about Amanda."

The mention of her name makes me want to hit my head against the wall for forgetting, but relieved that he doesn't have to say anything else. We were too caught up in accepting ourselves that we forgot about someone who believes that Louis still wants to date her.

"I actually kind of forgot she existed." I admit and he laughs again.

"Don't feel bad, it's not very hard." He says lightly, though the words are harsh. I should feel some guilt for how little Louis cares of her, but I'm still too excited over the fact that he's picked me and he's happy with me and he doesn't have to be with a girl that makes him miserable anymore. He's technically still with her at this point, but maybe that will change. "Should I break up with her?" He asks me like he already knows the answer, but I have to think about it. "Do you want me to? It obviously won't be that big of a problem leaving the person that hasn't stopped making me feel shitty."

I'm not surprised at his willingness to leave her so quickly, he's wanted to do it for months now. Still, I wonder if breaking up with her would be realistic in other peoples' eyes. I wonder if they'll think it's strange the happy couple is done.

"Wouldn't it be kind of weird though?" The more I think about it, it seems too abrupt for Louis to leave her right now. "I mean - you've been together for over a year and no one has seen anything wrong, even if it's been nothing but wrong."

"So what are you saying?"

"Your friends already joke with you about me and if you leave Amanda the moment we start being friends again, they'll think something's weird. I don't want to make things worse between us and them." I suggest. I probably sound full of paranoia, but there's a small chance I could be right.

"So I should just stay with her?" He muses, a caution in his voice that questions if I might be serious. "You're actually okay with that? Because I barely know if _I'm_ okay with that."

Now that we're together, I don't know why I'd give consent and insist that he pretend like he's with someone else, but he's already starting to go through hell when he's friends bug him and I don't want to be the one that's making it worse for him. They'll be given every reason to think that something sudden happened, because something sudden did happen.

"I don't know," I confess, attempting to sound more rational. "Celebrities have beards hired for them all the time. She could just be yours for a while without knowing." I laugh at the idea and so does Louis.

"Are we going to pay her?" He still bellows with laughter, and it puts the odd situation at ease.

"If she doesn't know you're gay, she might think you want her to prostitute for you." I say.

"I think she might be willing," he comments.

"Absolutely not." I deny, shaking my head with a wide smile across my face while wondering if she might actually do it, as long as everyone thought they were in a real relationship. "The line has been drawn."

He laughs louder and I can picture the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

"Well the beard thing might actually work." He decides, and even if I want him all to myself, I still get him because he doesn't have feelings for Amanda and they can break up in a few weeks anyway.

"See? I'm smart most of the time," I declare, still grinning.

"More like _all the time_ ," he corrects. I can hear the smile in his voice and I don't want to stop talking to him, even if I'll see him in twenty minutes. "But I'll see you at school, yeah?"

I stand up and wonder if he's already on his way there and get a rushed feeling and start grabbing my things again to go see him.

"I'll be there soon," I say, and we tell each other a quick goodbye before hanging up and jogging downstairs to get a small breakfast to go, putting a jacket over my shoulders before going out to my car.

If we can barely stay away from each other in school before, I don't know how the hell we're going to do it now. I worry that we'll slip up without realising and his friends might be around. And even if I told him to stay with Amanda, she's going to want to kiss him and be cute in front of everyone so I can only hope that she notices him spending less time with her and how much he doesn't want to be with her. I want her to break up with him, but I don't care if I have to share pieces of him if it means I'll selfishly get him to myself soon. I still have more of him than she's had in a year, so part of me doesn't mind.

I get to school and don't take my time walking my time as usual, but I feel even the smallest glances from people when I make my way down the corridor. I'm not smiling as big as I could be, but it's like they can hear all the words Louis said to me last night and I want to scream that I'm not alone anymore, but I manage to keep quiet so it stays that way.

I get to the gymnasium and there's too many people in the changing rooms to be comfortable, but Louis is there and he grins when he sees me and I don't want to be anywhere else. I walk in further and would go to talk to him, but Sam has beat me to it and they're mid conversation by the time I arrive. Louis doesn't look like he's paying much attention to whatever they're talking about and I have to constantly tell myself to stop staring at him so I can do something productive.

They begin to walk out after I've pulled a new top on, and Louis looks at me for a brief second before he's out of the room and I can't see him anymore. I'm ridiculously obsessing over him and know we're barely going to get to talk today, but somehow I convince myself having him close to me will improve the separation. I pull my shorts on and slide into my trainers, barely having them on comfortably before I'm heading out the door to see him again. I adjust the backs while I walk, already looking for Louis when I step out and easily see that he was waiting for me. Smiling, he beckons me to stand by him and I don't second guess it.

"Good morning again," he grins widely and it warms me to my core.

"Good morning," I reply, putting my hands behind my back. My fingers link together and he chuckles at me, probably noticing the blush I don't feel anymore. It happens too much to even think of it anymore, and Louis doesn't bug me about it so I don't think I mind it as much.

Sam is with us, but he doesn't bother involving himself in our conversation. I don't doubt that he's annoyed with my mere presence, but it doesn't take me a large amount of effort to only want to talk to Louis. Throughout class, he's with me more than usual and so I can say more, but I didn't expect to after he said he didn't want anyone to know. Even if that's changed now and he plans on telling people, I'm too accustomed to watching him want me then leave me. It's different having all his attention. He talks to me in front of his friends and the odd time they'll talk to me too, with the exception of Sam and Trent, who look like they've got their own group formed to say things about me when I can't hear. They don't bother me as much as they used to, barely even looking my way, and I think it's only because Louis is around. I don't complain at all because all of this is new to me and it feels good to be important.

"You're sitting with us today," Louis states while we head towards the cafeteria after our last class, where we could barely stop talking to each other and looking at each other. It might've been annoying, but it only made Louis smile bigger and that's all I wanted. I thought PE was a little much with the laughing and talking loudly and goofing off more than actually trying. My cheeks ache from so much laughter, but Mr. Walton reminded him that his class has actual marks and we actually needed to participate in order to receive some. Louis responded with "Yes, sir" and Mr. Walton was the only one who couldn't see the humour.

"We don't have to sit together," I begin, as we've been attached all morning and his friends probably hate us enough for it already.

"Yes we do," Louis insists, smiling up at me. "That's what _friends_ do."

He winks at me and I roll my eyes at him.

"Well your real friends sort of strongly dislike me." I remind him. The distance between us is noticeable close as we walk, but I wouldn't change it for any larger distance.

"You're my best friend though," he points out, and it's still strange that I have a best friend, let alone have that person as my boyfriend as well. "And that means that I'll say something to them if they say something to you."

I smile with gratitude and complete fondness, but it doesn't stop the fact that I don't want to spend my time around people that don't like me. If they pretend to, I can tolerate it for a certain amount of time, but all I can imagine is Sam asking why the fags are sitting with everyone.

"We shouldn't, Louis," I say seriously. It's his turn to roll his eyes now, and he gently bumps my arm with his shoulder.

"You've sat with us before. It's not like it's going to be a big deal."

"It is, though," I insist, even if I usually hate sitting alone. I'd rather not hear them being douchebags right in front of me. I can already remember everything they've said and done to me and the thought alone makes me dread being in the same room as them. "They're just going to say stuff and I don't want to hear it."

We have our trays of food and we're standing in everyone's way while we talk. No one asks us to move, but I pull Louis to the side anyway.

"I'll make sure they won't do anything." He presses, then lowers his voice and leans forward a few inches. I can feel his breath on my skin and that's enough to make me do whatever he wants. "If I don't get to act like your damn boyfriend around them, I want to at least get to sit down and talk to you without a lesson going on around us." Another few inches and I could kiss him, but there's so many people around.

"Okay," I agree. It's all I can say.

He puts his hand on my shoulder with a grin, leading me over to his usual table. Everyone at least glances our way before we sit down, but I look anywhere but at them. They don't say anything when Louis and I settle in, but under the table he touches my knee. I look at him, worried people can see when I know they can't. He smiles assuringly and  I'm still wary being around them, unaware how to act in a way that won't make them wish I wasn't around. They all have their own conversations and Louis tries maybe a little too hard to bring me into them, but they're nice enough. I'm glad Sam and Trent still decide to ignore me.

Amanda comes by soon and puts her arms around his neck, placing her pink-lipsticked mouth on his cheek. It leaves a mark and I can't look away even if I can't stand her. He's clearly uncomfortable, and when she pulls back he turns away to wipe away the glossy stain. He looks like he wants to apologize, so I just shrug because I told him he should stay with her, so I shouldn't feel bad whenever they're together. If it was really a problem, I could have told him this morning that he should leave her. It's not like kissing his cheeks is a big deal either, and he clearly doesn't like it so I shouldn't be upset.

She takes his hand and holds it close to her, smiling up at him with dazzling eyes.

"So my parent said you should be at the restaurant around six." She tells him and he pauses with a look of confusion. I don't look their way, but I listen in on their conversation.

"Six?" He repeats and she nods slowly. I know he doesn't have a clue what she's talking about, and I know it must be important because she isn't amused.

"For my early birthday dinner?" She reminds him, and I have to look down so no one sees my smile. "Louis, I told you not to forget-"

"No, no, I didn't," he lies, and Trent chuckles, shaking his head.

"Bullshit," he calls out, but Louis rolls his eyes and looks back to Amanda.

"I didn't forget," he assures her with with the best fake sincerity and I know he wouldn't have came if Amanda didn't remind him. He hasn't mentioned anything about it all week. "I'll be there."

When he answers with this I'm disappointed, even if we didn't make any plans. I assumed Louis and I would be doing something.

"Okay," she beams, giving his hand a squeeze. "But if you come in jeans and one of your old shirts, my dad might murder you."

"Sure," Louis agrees, smiling at her the way he doesn't smile at me.

He doesn't look at me again, then I wonder if he didn't mention it to me on purpose. I wonder if he thought I'd be jealous or angry with him for going.

Amanda gushes over tonight with him, and Marcie and Emma obsess with her. They talk about her fancy party that she's having over weekend and she tells Louis how much fun it's going to be, and all I can think of is the proper people in suits and gowns with glasses of champagne in their hands. They'll walk around with a haughty nature that Louis always talks about hating, so I wait for him to make an excuse as to why he couldn't go, but he doesn't. He's going to go with her, but I quickly notice I'm overreacting and there's no way in hell Louis would willingly choose to be with her over me. If he told her before he would go to this thing, he should. He's told me over and over that I shouldn't compare myself to her, so I should believe him. Still, I look at her loving him and jealousy burns inside me. He doesn't look at her the same, but I want to be the only one.

Lunch ends and Louis picks up on my discomfort after having Amanda around. I'm more quiet than usual and I haven't said much to Louis, not knowing what to tell hi. We're walking to class along with everyone else, bumping shoulders into strangers who are too busy to care and I wonder if he's guilty for being with her.

"I really should break up with her." Louis sighs, finally looking up at me. "It obviously bugs you, and honestly bugs me too. No ones forcing us to be together, so I don't see why I shouldn't."

I shake my head, even if I don't want to see him around Amanda. It will seem off if he ends things with her while they're on good terms. Seeing her today, I can tell that she's still thinking they've promised forever and she'll wonder why he's leaving her so suddenly.

"It's too soon, Louis," I insist, bringing my voice to a level that only he can hear. "It's a little weird when she kisses you and stuff, but I don't care that you hang out with her."

"But it's just-" He wrinkles his nose with a frown. "I don't want it to upset you."

I roll my eyes and he laughs.

"I literally just said it won't," I repeat, trying to convince myself at the same time. "Everyone will think you're the biggest dick for breaking up with her on her birthday too."

"They already know I'm a dick," he shrugs, and I laugh at his candid behaviour I've strangely gotten used to. "It won't be a big deal."

"Just don't do it right now. Wait for her to break up with you."

He raises an eyebrow, and I can barely believe that I'm telling him this. I know his parents adore her and I can picture his dad being angry with him for leaving her. He expects Louis to love all the things he does and shape into the man he is, but right now that's impossible so we'll have to ease his mind into Louis being someone completely different.

"This is most definitely the maddest thing I've ever done." He admits, and I grin, wondering why it's so easy to share him now when I never wanted to before. "I don't mind, though. As long as it makes you happy."

"I honestly don't know how letting you be with a girl I don't like makes me happy, but it's comforting to know she's there." I add, and the only part that makes sense is keeping her around so other people don't know we're together. Allowing this to happen 

At the end of our classes, Amanda has her arms around Louis before I get to him, and he looks at me apologetically again as they leave the building hand in hand. I get a text with another apology, and I insist that it's okay because we already spend too much time together. I still miss him when I go home, no excitement as I wait to hear his footsteps coming up the stairs because I know they won't be there.

He texts me while he's with Amanda, and I'm smiling at my phone while he tells me about teasing her for the never ending stories she goes on about. I laugh at them all, and it goes on for around two hours, when Louis has to go home to get ready for her dinner.

I sit in bed and revise for exams, flipping back and forth in textbooks while I do review questions from the beginning of the year. I miss Louis sitting at the foot of the bed, trying to get me off topic, or actually trying to get help with school the odd time. I wonder if Amanda's kissed him yet and I wonder if this is a good idea, getting myself off topic until my ringtone echoes through the room and gives me a near heart attack.

I answer it quickly, my pulse still racing wildly when it's pressed to my ear.

"I'm coming to your house, are your parents home?" Louis voice asks, and I start relaxing even if I wonder why he's here when he should be with Amanda. No matter what his answer is, I'm just glad he's going to be here.

"Yeah, they're downstairs. You can just come up to my room." I tell him, wondering if he has to get back to her before the dinner. There's only a few minutes until six o'clock, but I want more than a few minutes.

"I can only stay a few minutes-" he begins and I groan, laughing to myself and wish I didn't get my hopes up so much. "I'd be on time to her birthday if I wasn't seeing you, but I miss you and it's not like anything exciting will happen if I'm not there at exactly six." He says. I smile to myself - completely infatuated with him and ache to kiss him again, even if it's barely been a day away from him. "Can you meet me outside so your parents don't see? I'm just pulling in right now."

I'm already headed downstairs, only stopping when my mum asks me where I'm going. 

"Uh - Louis is just dropping some stuff off from school." I lie, and she nods, staring at me strangely before walking back into the lounge. I hope the curtains over the windows are still closed, but I'm sure she's still wondering why I'd be excited over 'some stuff from school.'

I pull a coat on over my shoulders and slip into my trainers, opening the door just as Louis is walking up the steps.

His all navy suit is crisp and the perfect level of luxurious for Amanda and her well-known family. I infuse myself with the way it hugs his curvy waist and outlines all his perfect features. Hair has been pushed out of his painfully blue eyes, up into a wispy quiff that looks too soft to be real. My mouth goes dry seeing him like this, and I can't get over how good he looks. He definitely takes notice of my staring - anyone could notice.

"Do I look _that_ hot?" He teases, meeting me at the top of the stairs. I look around before placing my hands on his hips, hoping the cold air will be enough to subdue my scalding cheeks.

"Yes," I tell him. He slides his hands up my arms and rests them on my biceps. We're so close that he steals my breath and his eyes drill permanent memories of their colour in my mind. "Amanda doesn't deserve you."

My words are breathy and quiet, and I'm not even sure if he heard them until he smiles and takes the smallest step forward, as there's barely enough room between us for anything else.

"You're the only one I want to deserve me." He says, tilting his head up enough so all I need to do is lean down to press my mouth against his.

I have no self-control and lower myself the few inches, divested of his taste. Our bodies immediately mould together as we try to get as close as possible, the rawness of it exposing my every nerve to his touch. No matter how many times that I've heard this should be wrong, his lips move a little rougher and every star that exists transmits to my mouth and there's no way in hell I could trade this for something else. He's so bright I wonder if he _is_ made of stars or stardust or pieces of the moon or maybe everything altogether.

"I don't want you to go," I mumble, still desperately kissing him.

The surfaces of my body that aren't pressed to him are covered in goosebumps, but he heats the rest of me so much that I'd stay out here as long as he wanted me to.

"I don't want to go," He replies, caressing the base of my jaw with his thumbs. He pulls away to look at me and I feel frost slowly begins to build up on the surface of my lips while he puts space between us.

"You'll be late," I tell him. He should be going, even if I want to sit here and saturate myself in his kisses.

"I'm already late," he chuckles, pushing up on his toes so he can kiss the corner of my mouth. "I don't think another minute can do much damage."

He presses another kiss my jaw, and the stars now cloud my vision, but it couldn't be more beautiful. My body is weak and I want him to come inside so I can lock my bedroom door behind us and let him kiss me like this for hours.

"But my parents are inside... They'll think it's weird I'm out here for so long." I laugh, pressing out foreheads together.

"Yeah, but don't know about us," he reminds me, still moving his thumbs gently. "And neither does Amanda, so they won't think anything of it."

I smile and nod, continuing to kiss him.

"Imagine if she knew," I say with quiet laughter, still getting in our bursts of satisfaction whenever we can.

"She'd be so jealous," he chuckles. "I think lots of people would."

I wrinkle my nose at the thought because I can't see someone ever being jealous of me. I think they'd just be jealous that someone like me has Louis and they don't.

"Yeah right," I deny, but he still kisses me as he laughs.

He tastes sweetly of a sinful lust, and his tongue soothes me as it travels along every pathway of my mouth. He runs his hands down my chest and my brain trains itself to believe he's so essential that it pushes away the need to breathe. We eventually have to pull away and our chests rise and fall with the burning desire for oxygen, but we'd still rather be shaping our lips together.

"This keeps getting better," he chuckles, grazing his mouth across mine, barely getting the chance to apply any pressure before his phone rings. He groans and drops himself from his tiptoes, looking down. He doesn't have to answer to know who it is. "That is my cue that I need to get out of here before I'm chopped into pieces."

I laugh and nod, letting him go even if I don't want him to.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask and he nods, gleaming up at me.

"Mhmm," he agrees, giving my cold hand a squeeze. I'm already longing to have him with me again, and he's barely left.

He presses my mouth to mine too quickly before he walks down the steps, waving goodbye again when he gets into his car with his mobile pressed against his ear. I lean against the door as I watch him drive away, and have to sit outside in the cold before I go back in, patiently waiting for for my immense grin to subside.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Days [ii] / The Lies

 

Songs for this chapter:

[Heal - Tom Odell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9omSmQYVRSQ)

[Silhouette (feat. Ellie Goulding) - Active Child](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETon5Cj5Ghg)

 

I sit on a hospital bed when I decide that I've been here for the same reason too much, even if too much is twice. The last time I was in the same position, I passed out when I couldn't breathe, and was told that it's more than likely I have an anxiety disorder. I told them I would be fine without treatment, but here I am with my hands shaking as a psychiatrist tries to ask me questions that will tell the both of us how chemically imbalanced my brain might be.

No one knows I'm here, and I can feel my phone quietly buzzing in my pocket every few minutes, aware that it can only be Louis. He's the one person that I'd procrastinate telling out of the limited number of people I know. I can picture him telling me he doesn't want to be with someone that's this needy and paranoid, even if he's already with that person. He hasn't seen this person yet, and since I've been good at hiding it so far, I won't let him see. It's been months since I've had an anxiety attack like this, especially when Louis and I are on good terms. He calms me so much I didn't think anything could go wrong, until my parents reminded me that I needed to call the universities to set up my interviews and that I still need to make time for revising so the schools won't drop my acceptance that is only conditional while getting extra help with school, even if my teachers say I don't need it. Then they tell me that they enjoy having Louis around, but he shouldn't be around me as much right now because of how busy I am but I can't tell them that I need him with me so I don't lose my mind because if I say something to them he'll lose his family and everything will go wrong all over again.

So my mind started screaming again and Louis wasn't there to stop it. My hands were shaking and the devils that burrowed their homes inside me began wrapping wire around my throat again. They'd puncture my lungs and spin my stomach in circles to make me vomit, laughing at every exposed weakness.

_I avoid the mirror and squeeze my eyes shut so I can't look at the monster that will stare back at me, but the blindness doesn't stop words that aren't mine. They're all I can hear, so loud I can't make out the noises of crying and gasping for air. I think I'm asking why, my hands clutching and clawing at my chest while I wonder where the hell Louis is. He's not here to kiss away the pain and I don't know how I should expect him to be if I never tell him how much I'm always hurting. I've never told anyone how much this hurts. If I do, all I can imagine is looks of disgust and mouths shaping words of pity, saying it could be worse or I'd get better soon. If any of it was true, "soon" would have happened a long time ago. I clutch onto my chest as I try to breathe, clawing at my clothing to get it off, or have something to hold onto. The floor I sit on is tilting and I don't think I can try any harder._

_I'm never going to be the person I thought I was, and I'm never going to be the person people think they know. I'm not brave enough to tell the one person that's cared for me about this because all I can see is him telling me that he'll never fall in love with me. He'll never look at me the same. He'll never kiss me and he'll never hold my hand. I wonder if I have to wait another seventeen years to get a kiss that feels like his, or if that's never going to happen for me again. Hell, I'm incapable of telling anyone that I like kissing boys because I'm terrified they'll make the screaming louder when all I want is some peace and quiet. Even telling Louis that I wanted him made this feeling come back, but if I tell him the truth he might run because I can't even look at myself while it happens. It's disgusting and terrifying and no amount of reassurance in the world that can stop me from wanting to crawl out of my own goddamn skin._

It hasn't been that bad in so long, but my acid-like tears still incinerate my cheeks, and I've stopped crying three hours ago. I don't want to feel like I'm insane. I know the reason I'm here is to find out if I am over-exaggerating things or if this is something serious, but after all the questions I've answered, I already know what the man in front of me is going to say. I just don't think I'm ready to hear someone else tell me the truth. It means that there's been something wrong with my brain for years. It means that the only way to fix me would be to start telling people and swallow pills until I can smile again.

"How often have you had anxiety attacks like this?" The doctor asks, and I keep fiddling with my fingers even when I know I shouldn't.

"They um - they haven't been happened as much lately, but I used to get them a lot." I tell him. It's too hard to keep eye contact when I know he's looking at me. I almost want to look around for microphones or ask if he's going to tell anyone about me because I haven't told anyone about this. It's been years and I'm too used to keeping it to myself and finding excuses so no one finds out.

"Can you take a guess as to how much they used to happen?" He goes on, and I chew on my bottom lip while I try to think of an honest number, tasting blood when I run my tongue across the raw skin.

"A couple of times a week," I tell him. Sometimes it would be worse - during the days when Louis couldn't stand me - and I'd forget how to breathe nearly every day.

"Do your nerves cause you to avoid certain situations?" He questions, and I nod. It's not hard to remember all the times I've avoided every social situation possible.

It smells like chemicals in here and I'm still not adjusted to it. I want to get out.

"Have you had any traumatic experiences when you were younger?" He continues, and I don't think anything I've been through could count as traumatic.

"No," I answer, and he nods, writing something on the piece of paper against his clipboard.

"Do you regularly drink alcohol or use drugs?" He asks, and I shake my head, my eyes darting to the poster on the wall.

 _"Don't believe everything you think,"_ it reads _. "You are not your brain."_

I don't think I'll ever understand how people can come up with absolute bullshit.

"Do you have any close relatives with anxiety disorders or mental health conditions?" He wonders, and I shrug, looking down at my hands again.

"Not that I know of."

He nods calmly again, his eyes on his clipboard. "Is there anything you've noticed that improves your anxiety?"

 _Louis_.

"Kind of," I say. I know he's a doctor, but I still can't bring myself to admit anything. I don't want anyone to know. "My - uh - my girlfriend."

The words taste strange and wrong and I get a strong need to take them back.

"Does she know about your anxiety?" He wonders, and I shake my head again. My head wants to etch away the _she_ to _he_ , but I don't stop thinking about what he'd say if he found out.

"I can't tell anyone I know," I answer, still chewing on my lip. It throbs, but I can't seem to stop.

"What about a therapist?" He continues. "Sometimes it's nice to talk to someone who doesn't know you and you don't know."

"I don't think I can do that either," I admit. It sounds stupid and maybe a little childish, but I want to talk to someone that I _do_ know but not anyone that I currently know and I can't stand the thought of talking to a stranger. This is more messed up than I thought, and saying it all out loud intensifies the madness.

"You're anxiety is getting quite severe, Marcel." He informs me, looking down at all the things he wrote about what I've been saying. Hearing him say it makes everything more real, but it isn't any more comforting. "Even if some don't believe it, anxiety is an actual mental disorder that interferes with how you live." He informs me. "It has to be treated just like physical injuries, but usually takes more than a few months to heal completely." I nod, not knowing how to respond. "Would you like to try prescribed medication?" He asks. "They can be very successful at your age."

If I start taking medicine my parents will find out and give them more of a reason to worry and they might start to think I'm incapable of doing the things I've done for years.

"I can think about it," I tell him, just so he doesn't think that I'm denying any source of help with this - even if I am. I want to get better, but I need to do it in a way where no one will find out how messed up I've been since the beginning. If I've been able to survive with the disorder for this long, maybe I can start changing some things and get better myself.

He nods understandingly and stands up.

"You can come visit me if you change your mind about anything. I'm here to help." He says and the words still sound like lies, but I thank him before leaving the room.

Stepping into the hall intensifies the sickly smell and my nose can sense all death they're trying to mask with chemicals. I don't know how I expect to be a doctor when I can't stand being in hospitals. Even walking in here was too overwhelming and I was counting down the minutes until I got to leave.

Walking outside to my car, I avoid looking at the other people that are waiting for their names to be called. I put my keys in the ignition, pressing my hands to the heating vents before holding them to my mouth. I form a cup with each palm and exhale the hot air, resting my head on the steering wheel. My body is still stiff and I close my eyes, trying to make sense of everything that I thought made sense an hour ago.

 _I can't tell Louis_.

I want to tell him so I can ring him every time it gets bad, but I can't ever ring him if he leaves me. He won't look at me the same and he'll never want to fall in love with me because I have too many problems. I'll burden him with everything that goes on and it'll be too much for him to handle. He'll think I lied to him for all these months and he'll get angry and even if he forgives me, he won't stay with me for long. He'll get tired of having to deal with the same problems over and over again and when we can't do anything fun anymore he'll want to be with someone that can make him completely happy. If he finds out, I won't make him completely happy.

I sit in the vehicle until it's warm, figuring out an excuse for my absence before looking at all the texts and unheard messages from Louis. Maybe I'll tell him my mobile died and I was doing stuff for uni. It'll be easier to say when we're not face to face.

_"*My parents are gone for the rest of the day.*"_

_"*Where are youuuu ???*"_

_"*You're wasting the precious, minimal time we have together.*"_

_"*I have to get ready for Amanda's by the time my parents are home, and I might be mad if I don't see you by then.*"_

I smile at every fatuous text that is somehow meaningful at the same time, and focus on his playfulness rather than each string of the doctor's words.

 _"*Sorry, my phone died and I was doing stuff for uni so I had it charging for a while.*"_ I reply to him, about to send an immediate text to him saying that I'll be over in a few minutes, but can picture he disapproving stare of my parents as I choose to be with Louis over revising for my exams.  _"*I have to revise for exams, can you stop by before you go to Amanda's?*"_ I ask hopefully. I'll go even more mad if I don't see him today of all days.

 _"*You've been revising for days, I think you need a break.*"_ He says to me and I smile, wanting to take the risk of going there even for an hour, but my parents already think I've been taking a break by driving around. They don't know I drove straight to the hospital.

_"*I really shouldn't, you know I have to do really well.*"_

When I see that he's read my text, I immediately get a call from him.

"You're not Doctor Styles yet, and we haven't snogged in quite a long time, so I think we'd better get on with it before I have to pretend like I'm straight again." He says, barely giving me a chance to say hello.

"Lou, even if I wanted to come there, my parents wouldn't let me. They want me at home." I tell him. I sound like I'm still a child, but I don't want them to think I'm risking my future over a silly friendship, even if it's so much more than that.

"Then just leave," He tells me, and I let out a laugh.

"I can't."

"Then bring your books here. You can revise and I'll try to keep the distractions to a minimum, but you have to promise you'll let me do what I need to every now and then." He says and I sigh, the better part of my knowing I should say no.

"Fine," I agree. I need distractions from everything for a while, even if parts of me are dried and empty from constant sobbing. He's the only one that has the ability to fill the vacancy. "But if my parents say no, I can't come."

"You're basically an adult," he points out, and I begin to drive back to my house when I want to drive home. "You shouldn't need permission to go places."

"They'll bite my head off if I don't ask. Especially right now." I say, fumbling with my phone while trying to pay attention to the other vehicles around me. "I'll ring you back in a few minutes, alright?"

"Yeah, sure," he agrees in exaggerated disappointment and I laugh to myself before hanging up and sliding my phone into the seat beside me.

My thoughts are hospital-soaked as I continue along the road, and it's hard to see the sun even when it peaks through the ashy clouds. I'm cold from the inside out, hands still shaking even when I get to my house. It's completely silent inside, and I'm so used to it that I think I'm lonely again, but there;s a line of light underneath my mum's office down the hall so I kick my boots off, leaving my coat on as I knock on the door. It's something I learned I should do when I was young, in case there was an important phone call going on in the room or deadlines that needed to be met without any interruptions.

"Come in," she tells me, and I turn the knob to push the door open.

Her glasses sit on the bridge of her nose and she smiles when she sees me, turning in her swivel chair. There's two mannequins on the far side of the room and she has a closet specifically for projects she works on at home. She looks exhausted, notepads open with words artistically inked the pages, a white light from her laptop illuminating her soft, but slowly wrinkling skin. She still looks young, but there's crows feet on the corners of each eye now and dark half-moons beneath them from the past few days. I know she's been busy, and I hate bugging her when she probably needs to be ringing people and emailing things, and she probably won't be happy knowing I interrupted her work only to ask if I could leave the house instead of revise for my extremely important exams.

"Hi, love," she greets calmly, her simple smile unceasing.

"Is it alright if I go to Louis' for a bit?" I ask, my teeth mindlessly pulling at my bottom lip. My heart is still beating rapidly from the anxiety attack and doctor's appointment, and I don't think it'll stop until I see Louis. She wasn't here while everything happened, and I'm sure she's too busy with everything else to notice that anything might be different.

"Shouldn't you be revising?" She questions, a frown beginning to form between her brows. "I'm sure Louis can wait if you do some work for a few hours."

"We were actually going to look over some stuff together." I tell her, eager to see him. I don't know what the hell will happen if I have to wait a few hours. "He needed help, so I told him I'd go see him for a bit."

"Oh." Her words aren't an objection yet, and I hope they'll stay that way. "Well you'll be back for dinner then?"

I nod, almost jumping to head out the door again.

"I will," I agree, and smile, leaning down to her height to press my lips to her warm cheek. "Thank you. I'll see you later."

She smiles at me again and I close the door behind me, going up to my room to grab a few things before I head back out to my car. I drive ten kilometres over the speed limit the entire way there, and jog my way up to Louis' front door. I'm too eager to see him, but I know I'll relax as soon as his hands are against me again. The door is locked and I sigh impatiently, picking my phone out of my pocket.

"Are you coming?" He answers.

"I'm outside and you haven't told me where your spare key is, so I might stay here until you do." I challenge, looking down at the number lock on his door. "Or I guess you'll have to tell me this number pad thing."

I stare at it and am about to guess what it could be, then realise that will probably set off alarms and send for the police or something.

"I could just come down and let you up." He chuckles, and I hear him moving around.

"Do you not trust me?" I tease, already more relaxed that I can hear his voice. "That's a key element in relationships, you know. This can't be a one-sided sort of deal."

I hear footsteps coming close to the door and I grin widely.

"Well I can hear you talking, so it would be much easier just to let you in." He informs me, but I don't hear him turning the lock.

"You really don't trust me, do you?" I ask, and see him moving the curtains in the window to look outside.

He laughs when he sees me and my fingers start to tingle from the cold air.

"Are you sure you don't want me to open it for you?" He questions and I roll my eyes.

"No. I've given you my not-so-secret hiding place for my key, so it's only fair that you tell me what the code is."

He leans against the window with a cheeky smirk on his face.

"You look cold," he comments and I groan in frustration, but can't hide my adoration for him.

"You're so stubborn, just tell me what it is."

He let's out a long sigh and I can see his warm breath fog up the glass in front of his mouth.

"It's _1943_." He tells me, and I press each number into the pad, watching the numbers glow green each time. I hear it unlock and let myself in. My skin bathes in the warmth of the house and I let out a breath of relief, allowing my lungs to get the amount of air they need and haven't acquired in hours.

Louis steps over with his devilish smile that's too contagious to even pretend like I'm upset.

"So who's birthday is that?" I wonder, setting my books down by my feet for a moment. They're too much of a barrier between us.

"Mine," he jokes and I roll my eyes. As soon as my coat is unzipped, he slips his hands beneath the fabric and around my waist.

"Be serious," I chuckle, placing my hands on his shoulders. I try not to lose my train of thought, but he's so warm and I want to envelop myself in his existence so nothing can ever hurt again.

"My nan's," he admits, looking up at me with eyes that light the sky.

"How secure," I comment, waisting time we don't have when he let's out an airy laugh.

"Why the hell are we talking about this?" He laughs, pulling me closer to him. I slide my hands up to his neck and brush my thumb across his skin, feeling his pulse beating through the pad of my finger.

"I don't know," I shrug, desperate for him again. I've already forgotten about today's events and he's barely been in front of me for five minutes.

"We have the house to ourselves. Just kiss me." He demands, pushing our lips together through each of our smiles.

Like always, he's soft and sensual to begin with, but a tide quickly rises and we're swimming through seas of passion that drowns everything but Louis. He anchors me without bringing water over my head and I'm immersed in how smoothly our lips fit together - every one of his edges curves against mine and melts us together so much I don't think we'll be able to come apart. His tongue slides across my bottom lip and my knees shake as I try to uphold my strength. Teeth graze my delicate skin with an eagerness that I willingly welcome, and deliberately take advantage of. This is the only time I have the confidence to reach for what I want, which happens to be all of him and all of what he gives me.

"I'm obsessed with you," he breathes, still pressing his soft lips to mine at every opportunity. We haven't moved since I've walked through the door, and I don't think either of us want to change that.

"Good," I tell him, my throat thick with need for him. "I'd lose my mind if you weren't."

He smiles into my mouth, and I already start to lose bits of my sanity when he pulls away from our embrace.

"I keep waiting for you to have some sort of flaw, but you really don't." He tells me, his arms still hooked around my back.

"I have many flaws," I deny, my vicious thoughts slowly surfacing.

I can count all of my flaws, but I'd need more than ten fingers to do so. Number one on that list would be lying to Louis about going to the doctor and how I'll probably continue to lie about the anxiety until it's too bad to hide anymore. Everything about it is fucked up, but I'll to anything to make sure he stays with me. I don't know how I survived so long before him.

"Invisible ones that you've probably created in your head." He laughs, bringing his fingers to my temple to give it a gentle tap.

He then drops his hand to hold mine, and I don't argue when I pick up my books again because I might try to convince him for so long that he'll believe me.

He drags me upstairs and we sit on his bed, my head in his lap as I read my textbooks and he watches a television programme I've never seen before, but he pouts because he can't kiss me like this. I grin and sit up to press our lips together, distracting myself longer than I should. I adjust myself to sit by him so he's close enough to touch and kiss, but I can barely pay attention to what I'm doing whenever he has his arms around me and plays with strands of my hair and kisses me wherever he can. I have to lie down on my stomach with my head near the foot of the bed so he can still satisfy his needs if he has to, but I can actually get some work done. He still begs me to take a break when I'm being too boring, and I gladly take the opportunity to get my mind off things again.

Everything is good until I have to lie. He asks if I was at home all day and I hope I don't sound as terrible as I think I do when I say yes. The ill feeling in the pit of my stomach subsides briefly, but I go back to revising and he lays beside me with his own books to get some stuff done. My thoughts claw their way out to enclose over every inch of my mind and I lie again when he asks if I'm okay after I stared at his wall for thirty seconds straight, wondering what else might be wrong with me. I've never had a bad day while Louis was with me on a good day. Even as he kisses me, I'm convincing myself there's no way in hell I'm good person, which means I can't be good enough for Louis. I can't stop lying, and if I plan on never telling him, I won't stop. It'll get to the point where he can't forgive me and I can't even forgive myself because everything is too messed up to even understand.

I tell my mum I'm feeling ill when I get home and jog upstairs so I can close my bedroom door before any tears start soaking my cheeks. No one hears and I bury my face in my pillow so they never will, but even if I was screaming they might not think anything of it.

When Louis calls after he's home from Amanda's, I let it go to voicemail because I got myself believing he shouldn't want to be with someone like me. He deserves someone better - someone that's good enough.

That night, I dream of Louis kissing me and whispering _liar, liar_ in my ear.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Days [iii] / All Alone

[Holding On and Letting Go - Ross Copperman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Awr_jzijeIU)

[We Are - Ed Sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFRCKWAe96s)

 

Louis' POV

When I stop Marcel in the hall he gives me a smile, but there's something lacking in his green eyes that causes my stomach to sink the way it did yesterday. It's hollow and makes me want to scrape my insides out to fill all the empty space.

"I was very upset that you didn't bother to answer my call." I joke - small attempt to make his happiness more genuine.

Last night, he was the kind of quiet that makes people cry when they're alone. I don't know what I did or if I did anything at all or if he was tired, but there wasn't anything that felt right. Even when he'd laugh, it was so soft that I wondered if he didn't want to be heard at all. He wouldn't look at me the way he usually does, instead stare at his hands or around the room with his mind on other things that were far away from me.

"I fell asleep early," he says, voice quiet and muted. "I was really tired last night. Still am, actually."

I tell myself that's a good explanation for everything, because I'd rather it be sleeping issues than something I did. Even if I can't think of anything I've done wrong, I tend to fuck things up a lot without realising it.

"And you didn't even think to return the call this morning?" I tease, and he rolls his eyes, a pink blush surfacing against his cheeks.

"I'm sorry for my awful behaviour," he says sarcastically, and now would be the perfect time to kiss him but I hate that the halls are filled with students that glance at us as they walk by and wouldn't understand if they saw me pressing my lips to his.

"I forgive you," I tell him, and still want to at least hold his hand while we walk to class, but have to dip my fingers into my pockets so I don't. "What are you doing tonight?" I ask knowing what his answer will be, but I'll mercilessly beg him until he spends time with me.

"I honestly can't tonight," he says with a frown growing between his eyebrows. "Exams are in a few days and you should be revising too."

I groan and slip into my desk, still turned towards him. "I am revising but, - like a normal human being - I'm not doing it every breathing moment." I inform him.

"I'm not that bad," he differs, wrinkling his nose as I lean back in my seat comfortably.

"Well when you never want to hang out with me..." I tease and make him blush, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

"I hung out with you yesterday," he points out, but I shrug and brush it off because I want to see him smile a little longer to make up for my earlier concerns.

"Twenty-four hours might as well be a week in my books." I joke and he rolls his eyes, looking to the front of the class as Mr. Reynolds begins speaking.

"You're mad," he whispers, and I wiggle my eyebrows just to get him smiling wider.

"Are you into that?" I ask, only infuriating his innocent blush more. He has to look away and I chuckle to myself before following his gaze so I won't get scolded for my lack of attention.

Each of my teacher seem to hate me lately, as I'm too distracted with the look of Marcel and the itching need to watch his dimples imprint his cheeks when he smiles. Even when I know I should be paying attention, I manage to make him smile and laugh during class, skilled at going unnoticed by Mr. Reynolds. Marcel can't stop grinning each time, even if he hates the fact that he might get into shit. His lips are tight when he tries to suppress the happiness and I want to choke myself for adoring him so much, shocked someone else hasn't done it for me by now.

"I need to get a seat far away from you if I want to pay proper attention." He tells me at the end of class, gathering his books into his black bag.

"Remember how they specifically sat us together so we'd be quiet and get work done?" I remind him, thinking back to the times when we hated the distance between us because it wasn't big enough. Now, we only complain because we can't make it any smaller.

"Back when we used to despise each other? I think I remember." He answers, dimples denting his cheeks. It seems like that time was so long ago, when only a couple of months have gone by. I can't stand the fact that I made his life miserable and it's hard to believe it only took a few conversations with him to change my mind. But no matter what, I don't think there's going to be enough I can do to make up for it.

"I still feel the need to apologise for that." I say, as if apologies are going to make it better. I still wonder if he's waiting for me to change again. "So I'm sorry."

"You've already apologised, it's fine," he replies, a small smile on his face like we were still joking.

"Well I'll still keep apologising," I say, but don't want to carry on the subject because it might bring up more problems that we don't need to deal with. "Are you sitting with me at lunch?"

"I actually can't today, I have to talk to these people from uni about classes and I need to have a teacher there or something so I don't have any other time to do it."

I over-exaggerate a pout and he let's out a subtle laugh. "You just had all the excuses in the world to avoid being around me, don't you?"

"I honestly have to go," he insists, and we stop at his locker so he can pack away his rucksack on one of the small hooks inside.

"Fine," I sigh, already hating that he's leaving. "Will you be done soon?"

He shrugs and closes the locker. "Probably."

"So you'll sit with me after you're done?" I wonder, even if I won't give him a choice. Whenever I see him I'll do what I can to get him next to me because we don't have enough time together.

"I don't think I have any other options." He jokes. "I'll see you later."

I smile at him instead of kissing him, then we walk separate ways and I have to do everything I can to not go back to him. I'm surprised we're not sick of each other at this point, but I'm already sick of my friends when I see them at our regular table with everyone else in the school revolving around them, and me once I sit down. Amanda is at my side with our fingers intertwined,talking incessantly about something someone said to her about someone else, but I'm nodding my head and making eye contact with agreeing _mhmm_ 's now and then so she doesn't get angry. That's all it takes to keep her mind off my short attention span and my mind on wondering how long it's been since Marcel left.

"We're all going to mine before footy, you up for it?" Sam asks, breaking my minimal focus on Amanda's talking. There's a devilish grin across his face and I already know who he'll involve without saying their name at all. "If you're not busy, that is."

I neglect his last statement entirely for the sake of everyone around us.

"Yeah, sure," I agree. I haven't been with them much anymore since Marcel's been around and they've probably still been talking shit, but as long as I don't hear it I won't care.

"No plans with your lover?" He prods, wiggling his eyebrows childishly. I avoid the subject best I can, deciding that if we don't talk about Marcel there won't be anything bad to say.

"No, no plans with Amanda," I confirm, only now realising staying with her truly has some benefits. I hear her laugh gingerly, and the grip of our hands loosen the more uncomfortable everyone sitting down gets.

"Is she okay with you being with other people? Open relationship kind of deal?" He wonders. My upper and lower teeth impress on each other, locking my jaw. "Or is Marcel the only exception?"

He let's out an amused, cocky laugh and Amanda let's go of my hand completely now. I look at her cooly - she's just giving Sam another reason to be a dick to me.

"You can sort this out yourselves," she mumbles and turns her body completely away from me. All I see is the back of her head and I'm sure that's the best view of her. It'll be nice that I don't have to deal with her because Sam is already getting Trent in on this, making him laugh just as much.

"Why are you so fucking hung up on us?" I snap, a deep frown setting between my brows. "You say we're gay when you're the only one who enjoys talking about him so much."

"Trust me," he begins, looking the least bit uncomfortable or embarrassed. "Even if I was a fag, I'd never let that kid near me - he's fucked up on all levels."

I need to say something without saying anything and I'd rather rip my own hair out than have to deal with this. I can't fucking stand them and I can't stand the fact that they'll keep hating Marcel for no damn reason. He's so good that he deserves the best of things in the world, but he gets to deals with fuckers like Sam and Trent instead.

"When have you ever given him a fucking chance?" I sneer. I acted exactly like this only a few months ago and I thought he'd eventually figure out how utterly stupid it is to hate Marcel for no reason, but I don't think he'll ever stop.

"People like him don't deserve a goddamn chance."

 _People like him. I'm people like him_.

"You're being too damn loud, someone's going to hear." Ian hisses, looking around to the people that are already staring at us without guilt or shame.

"I don't give a shit," Sam chuckles, folding his arms across his chest. "They all know Marcel is an annoying fag. It isn't news to them."

I try to tell myself to say something, but the only words I seem to know are about everything I lose myself over - Marcel's lips and his hands and his laughter and his mind and everything so fucking perfect I can't possibly say it in front of all these people. I can't even think of hating something about him anymore and I could endlessly list all his perfections to prove them wrong but I don't say anything so I think I might be going to hell for it - as if I wasn't already.

"He acts like he's still a fucking child in front of everyone. We're all pretty much adults, he should start acting like one."

I cringe and can't drown out his words. They're too loud and no amount of subtle touches or kisses could take away the fact that I'm still not saying anything to defend him. The two of them go off with each other because of it, telling their _remember when_ 's about all the times they fucked up his life. I hate that I was involved in most of that shit and how vivid each memory is. It goes on for an hour and ignoring it is harder than having to leave Marcel alone. I pretend they aren't there and I wonder where the fuck he is because they'll stop saying shit when he comes, but he doesn't. I look around the room to see if he was sitting alone again, but he isn't anywhere within view. I check my phone to see if his meeting is taking longer and my messages are blank, but hearing what Sam and Trent are saying, I don't think he'd even want to be around me right now.

 

Marcel's POV

I'm too familiar with the blurry toilet stalls to be surprised to see them again. The tie around my neck is getting tighter and makes my throat swell so much I can't get enough oxygen into my lungs, so my entire body aches and ignites into flames.

 _He's fucked up on all levels_.

Everything hurts and thinking of Louis doesn't make it better anymore. He doesn't stop the hurting because he didn't stop Sam, he watched them say everything and even if he didn't agree he didn't disagree either. He silently watched them talk about me like I'm not a human and didn't have anything to deny.

 _People like him don't deserve a goddamn chance_.

I wanted to hear him say that Sam was wrong and there's nothing wrong with me but he was so fucking quiet that I think there's something wrong with me. I'm choking on the stained air around me and I wonder if swallowing pills could subside the pain instead of suffering through it. I don't want pills because I don't want to depend on them for normality so I think of Louis' kisses and how much better he made me feel this morning, but it's like he doesn't even care about what Sam says - like he wants to agree, but the guilt will eat him alive. He's probably done it other times when I wasn't around and if I never walked by I wouldn't have known and he wouldn't have said anything.

Tears sear their way down my cheeks and I'm sure if someone was in the corridor they'd hear me. I hope Louis is out there so he can come inside, but then I'd have to tell him what's wrong and he'd find out I heard and we'd fight again and I don't want him to leave anymore. I make up excuses for him so I feel like everything he did is pretend, but it's real. He didn't say anything and everyone still can't stand me, no matter how far away I am. They're never going to want me around and soon they convince Louis that he shouldn't want me around either.

I'm cold and shaky and my hands grip onto my thighs, but that only makes my legs start trembling immediately after.

 _They all know Marcel is an annoying fag. It isn't news to them_.

It hurts to breathe to the point where I wish I wasn't breathing at all. Maybe I'm not and that's why it hurts so much. I get out of the stall as soon as I can, avoiding the mirror as I try to get more space, but the walls still shrink and I still don't get any air.

 _I might die_.

My chest aches and throbs and I don't know how I'm supposed to live like this. The idea of swallowing pills to make it stop is so lovely that I want them right now and even if Louis is the reason why I'm crying, I still want him here too. I want his hands to fold around my body and I want his lips to press against my skin and I want him to tell me it's okay. _I want to be okay_.

I cry and wonder if I'll die until the bell is ringing - when I'm leaning against the counter with my back facing the mirror, numb with dried tears stinging my cheeks. My body jolts and I finally turn to look at myself so no one will see how long I've been in here. I don't want Louis to notice I've been crying and not breathing right because he'll ask too many questions and the anxiety will happen all over again. I have to wait and blink and wipe my face and make sure I look better than I did twenty minutes ago before walking back outside.

There are people still in the hall that don't notice me when I go to my locker, but I still keep my eyes down in case my sclera is still red and irritated. I glance up every now and then so I don't bump into anyone, and getting closer to my locker I see Louis leaning beside it with his eyes on his phone. My heart races and I almost think about turning in the opposite direction, but he already sees me and it's too late to go anywhere else. His smile makes him look so happy that I hurt more than I should.

"Where were you?" He wonders and my fingers tremble as I try to turn my lock.

"The meeting took way longer than I thought it would." I lie, trying to smile like I normally would while I grab my books and avoid his gaze.

"Did you eat?" He wonders, reminding me that I didn't even eat breakfast this morning. Somehow my stomach doesn't feel empty. "There's probably fruit or something in the cafeteria, I can get you some before class."

"No, that's fine," I say, hoping he thinks everything is okay. "I'm not very hungry, anyway."

We start walking and I can feel his eyes on me - they burn my skin and I want him to look away because I'm a shit liar and he's going to ask me the question I don't want to lie to him but I'm going to have to.

"Are you sure? We still have time," he says and I shrug, looking ahead. I can't ignore the beat of my heart anymore - it's so loud I almost don't hear him talk.

"I'll just eat after school - I'll be fine." I insist, glancing down at him before we step into our class.

I can feel the buildup happen before the words tumble out of his mouth. It makes my stomach drop and no matter how many times I've had to lie about this, it's too hard to do with Louis. I want him to trust me but if I tell the truth I might never get to be with him. He might not be able to handle it, so I stand in front of him and think of words that will make this believable.

"Are you okay?" He finally asks, a frown settling between his eyebrows. My next words come out to practised - like I've been rehearsing them for years.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I force out a painful laugh, but it's not convincing enough to get Louis to stop questioning me.

"You seem a little off," he comments, sliding into his seat. "Did something happen with the people you were talking to?"

I shake my head, glad I'm not lying about everything.

"Are you sure? There wasn't anything wrong with you're application?" He looks genuinely concerned and my next laugh is a little more soft and true, but it still hurts to pretend like nothing is wrong. I should be able to tell him these things, but they scare me too much to let the thoughts leave my head.

"Lou, I'm fine," I repeat, wishing I could hold his hand or kiss him to get his mind away from all the things going wrong. "I've just been a little tired lately."

He smiles and nods, now reassured that I'm okay. I thought I'd have to do a bit more convincing, but he believes me for now and I need it to stay this way until I'm better - _if_ I ever get better..

At the end of the day, he asks me once more if I'm okay. I look him in the eye and lie once more, and he believes me once more. I almost lose my mind going home, waiting for Louis to ring me after he's done at Sam's and after he goes home from practise. I need him to distract me because it's hard to read through anything that I'm revising. I can't focus on anything but him, wondering what he might be saying about me to Sam or Trent or if they're saying something about me and Louis isn't stopping them again because he agrees with them. I think about it so much that I'm crying by the time Louis' name shows up on my phone, and my voice is shaky when I say hello, but I clear my throat so he doesn't think something's wrong again. If he asks me if I'm okay again I might not be able to lie.

"Can you take a break and come to mine? I haven't kissed you yet today." He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice but it doesn't lift my sinking heart. Any other time, I'd already be on my way over, but right now I can't even bring myself to leave my bedroom.

"I really want to, but these exams are stressing me out and we barely have a week left before we have to write them." I hate that I keep lying, but going over there will only make me break down into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. I'd embarrass myself and Louis might get mad at me for lying to him or I'll freak him out and he'll have to ask me to leave.

"Ugh..." He groans, ending it in a rough chuckle. His voice has a scratchy exhaustion to it and I want to stop crying just so I can lay down with him and let him bury his face in my neck, peppering lazy kissed across my exposed skin. "You're smart enough and have been revising for a long time. You deserve celebratory kisses."

The lightness in his voice makes me smile, but my cheeks don't dry.

"As much as I'd love that, it's too late and I haven't finished a bunch of stuff that you probably haven't finished either." I point out, wiping my face while using the rest of my strength to keep my voice even. It's a bit nasally, but he'd have to be in front of me to notice that I'm crying.

"Don't be so drab, my dear," he jokes, and I wonder if his hands running down my spine would calm me down or make me panic more. "You won't even come for five minutes?"

"It's us," I remind him, keeping my tone light so he keeps laughing. "Five minutes will turn into ten minutes, then a half hour. Then I won't make it out of there for at least an hour."

"That's dramatic," he tells me, having no idea how much I ache for him to want me equally. "But since you obviously don't want to be around me, I guess I can leave you to your studies."

"Why don't we do something tomorrow?" I ask. I know it's risky to plan like that, because he's going to say yes and the shitty feeling I have might not be gone by then. I'll have to force myself to leave the house and come up with happy things to say the entire time.

"Do you promise?" He wonders - then I stop myself from crossing my fingers.

"Yes. I promise," I tell him. We can be together for an hour tomorrow before I come home and get back to revising. I'm doing well with each class and maybe being with him will make me forget some of this for a while. He smiles so much when he's with me that I think he's all it might take.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then," he agrees. "I guess I'll just have to kiss myself goodnight."

I smile again, my vision still impaired with the excess tears.

"I guess you will," I tease, and his bright laughter stops my chest from rising so quickly.

"I like you too much," he says, and it's almost enough to change my mind about how he might think of me when I'm not around.

"You're okay," I reply jokingly. _Okay_ doesn't begin to describe him, so when we say our goodbyes I think of everything I don't want to lose. There's so much that I don't have room to wonder if I'm not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for making you all wait so long for this update, I've been so busy with exams and graduation that I've had barely any time to write, so the next few chapters might come in a little slow.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Days [iv] // Will It Ever End?

Songs for this chapter:

[Dream - Birdy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDpaFQOIh00)

Louis' POV

I sit in the foyer of the school, my back against the door while I inhale the warm air around me deeply, needing to go outside for fresh air but my head can't seem to tell my feet to move there.

 _Fuck_.

There's a few other people around after finishing their exams, but they can leave the school immediately. I still can't process how much I might have fucked up, no matter how many hours of effort I put into cramming my mind with information.

 _Fuck_.

I force myself outside to breathe the clean air and freak out where no one can see me. My neck hurts from looking down at those sheets of paper so long and I think I'm at the point in the week where I can't give a shit if I fail - but then I won't be going to uni and the football team won't want me and everything I've planned will go to shit because I might have messed up.

I'm in my cold, stiff vehicle, keeping my arms tight against my sides to increase the chances of getting warm. My jaw is tight and about to chatter, but while I wait for the heating to kick in I bring my phone out to call the only person that can make this better.

"Hello?" Marcel answers, and the air escapes from my lungs.

"Holy fuck," I start, not knowing where my words will go from there or what I even plan on telling him. "I didn't think it would be that fucking hard. That question on that thing - holy shit, I don't think I knew what I was doing half the fucking time. I think I guessed on most of my answers. I don't know what the fuck I'd do if I didn't have those multiple choice questions. Holy shit, I probably failed. I thought I understood everything, but I don't even remember learning half of that! That's so fucking unfair-"

"Breathe, Louis," Marcel's smooth voice is a thick honey that slowly seeps into me and brings me down from all the panic.

My forehead presses into the steering wheel and I let out a manic laugh. "What the fuck is happening?" I ask, a grin full of stress across my face. After every one of our exams this week, he'd usually finish before me, then I'd call him and we'd stress about everything we might have done wrong together.

"I'm not sure, I think I'm brain dead," he admits, which is somewhat comforting but also pressuring. "But apparently I know enough to make hot chocolate. Come over and celebrate our freedom before I lose my mind again."

I begin to pull out of the car park, my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder.

"I might drive into a tree on my way there - don't be surprised if I don't make it." I inform him, wondering if death would easier than this.

"Be careful," he chuckles and the hearty sound heats my chest. "I'll see you soon."

"Maybe," I grumble, and he laughs again before we hang up.

I start driving and almost smash my head into the steering wheel at every red light, unable to think about anything important but screaming if I don't see Marcel soon. It's been too long that we've been together without being in a rush and having to go somewhere or having our parents looking at us or being busy with these goddamn exams that might have ruined all my fucking plans for after school. I try to force the thoughts away but that doesn't do shit, so the only source of positivity I have is pulling into Marcel's driveway, almost tripping up the steps as I go to unlock his door. My lips burn while I kick off my shoes, dropping my jacket on the first chair I see so I can get to him sooner.

"Marcel?" I call out, thankful his parents will still be at work.

"In here!" He replies from the kitchen and I'm close to jogging by the time I get to the doorway of the room.

He's in front of the stove and there's a sweet aroma filling the room, overflowing with a thick chocolate that makes the whole house cozy and comfortable. He wears a black long sleeved shirt over his torso and I let my eyes ease over the fabric that drapes across his shoulder blades and falls loose around his hips. It looks soft and homely and my hands are drawn to him, involuntarily running themselves down his back, then around to his stomach.

"Before we cry about failing, I make the best hot chocolate in the entire world and it might make you want to blast your head off a little less." He tells me, and I slide myself beside him with my head on his shoulder so I can see him pouring a thick, creamy substance into two mugs. I can already taste the richness of it from the aroma around us, and kiss his neck, not knowing how I ended up with someone like this.

"You make homemade hot chocolate?" I ask and he nods, sliding me a cup.

"My nan showed me how when I was younger and I fell in love with it, so I never stopped making it." He tells me, but I'm too busy wrapping my arms around him to try it.

"I feel like you've been gone for weeks." I tell him, breathing in his sweet, musky scent. My cheek rests against his shoulder and I close my eyes for a moment, letting the stress of everything seep out of me and into hell, where it should have stayed.

"I missed you," he replies, pressing his lips to my hair as we hug. "But I'm not joking when I say it's the best in the world."

I grin and slide the warm cup into my hands, bringing it to my lips to satisfy him because I know he won't stop pressing me until I drink some. The mug is tilted enough that I don't incinerate my oesophagus with a large gulp, only allowing a small amount of the liquid to settle on my taste buds. My tongue tingles, the taste saccharine and familiar in a new way. I thought it might be too sugary with overwhelming amounts of chocolate but it has the right amounts of everything. I wish I could stick it in the freezer to cool down so I can have more sooner.

"This is amazing," I tell him and he grins, picking up his mug.

"Told you so," he says proudly.

"What's in it?" I ask. Even if he tells me, I don't think I'd ever make it. If I tried, it would be burnt or my house would be burnt.

"It's a secret," he shrugs smugly and I raise my eyebrows.

"Seriously? You're not going to tell me?"

He shakes his head.

"Healthy relationships involve communication, you know." I speak, still taking small sips of my drink.

He scoffs, and not telling me only makes me want to know more. "I'm sure our relationship will do just fine if you don't know." He informs me, and I grunt in disagreement.

"No it won't," I joke but he let's out a laugh, keeping his hands on my hips.

"Maybe I'll tell you when were about eighty. How does that sound?" He asks, as if he was going to tell me in a few hours.

"Not good," I deny, and he just shrugs, lifting his own drink so his soft lips.

I'm caught off guard, recognising the mug from the café in Brighton. When he lowers it from his mouth, I touch my finger to it and smile up at him.

"Do you have a mug collection or something?" I wonder, looking around to see if there was a glass case of them I didn't take notice of before.

"No," he chuckles, taking another sip.

"Then why did you buy this one when we went to Brighton?" I ask, leaning on the counter next to him. My words cause him to blush furiously and his eyes fall away from me, looking anywhere that isn't in my direction.

"I just wanted it." He shrugs, but the ridiculous lie was given away before it was spoken.

"Yeah right," I say, over-curious about too much, considering I never wanted to get asked another question after that exam. "Why did you get it?"

He laughs, placing the cup down so it's easier to hide his blush with his hands. "It's stupid - I don't even know why I did it." He admits, and I put mine beside him so I can have both my arms around his body again.

"Come on, you can tell me," I press. Now that he doesn't want to, I won't leave until he says something.

"You'll laugh at me," he says, sliding his hands up to my shoulders. His cheeks are still pink and I press my lips to each of them, soaking up their radiating warmth.

"I promise I won't laugh," I insist, wondering how the hell a mug could be linked with embarrassment. He still sighs and let's out a laugh, burying his face in my shoulder as he speaks.

"It was the exact same blue as your eyes that day - stormy - and I thought to was fate calling me saying that I needed to buy it." He tells me, and I break out into a wide grin, tucking _stormy_ into the back of my mind.

"That's the cheesiest thing in the world," I tease, and he pulls his body back to look down at me, palm against my cheek and his thumb brushing beneath my eye.

"I realised that after," he admits. "But it's much too late and your eyes change a lot so it's nice to have a reminder of what they look like on good days."

I slide my arms around his neck and there's still a blush infused beneath the delicate skin on his cheeks. He leans forward and presses his lips to the tip of my nose and his hands drop again to give my hips a soft squeeze. It brings me closer to him and makes me want to stay here for the rest of the day, even if I know we'll be forced much farther apart later on.

"Let's sit down then drink hot chocolate and complain about our futures." He tells me and I laugh, taking my mug in one hand and slipping my other into his.

We sit on the love seat in his lounge and he pulls the coffee table closer so we can reach our drinks. Our legs fold and tangle together as we face each other, pillows behind each of our backs and I wonder how his long legs manage to fit in such a small space. It leads me to focus on the way his body leans back and the level of comfort he slips into with me around.

He's smiling at me, then lets out a deep breath, asking, "What if we failed?" before laughing painfully. I join in with him because I don't know what else to do.

"I might just die," I say honestly, and he reaches for both of my hands. "Maybe I'll kill myself. We'll see how it goes."

"Don't joke like that," he frowns, but a small smile is across his lips. "I don't want you to die."

He kisses my knuckles and I move myself forward so I'm closer to him.

"Fine then, I'll just be miserable for the rest of my life." I sigh. "Who needs school anyway? Maybe I can just kill my father and inherit all his money."

He laughs at that, and I reach for my hot chocolate with wisps of smoke still swirling above it.

"What are you going to do?" I wonder.

"Well," he begins, looking like he's already thought of his back up plan. "I don't need to be a doctor. I can be a rubbish collector." He doesn't have to think about this long, and I put my hand on his knee, running circles around it with my thumb while he talks. "Actually, rubbish collectors get paid and serve a purpose in society. Maybe I'll become a hermit and never leave my house."

I laugh loudly, covering my mouth as if that'll make it stop. "Out of the two of us, I'm sure you're the one who's guaranteed a pass. I'm surprised your head isn't two times bigger to fit that massive brain of yours inside."

He rolls his eyes, a faint blush flickering across his cheeks. "I'm sure both of us did fine and we're freaking out over nothing." He corrects, and I sip at my hot chocolate.

Thinking about all the questions was unsure of, I don't know how he could be right.

"Well I'm starting to think we shouldn't talk about it." I chuckle. "I reckon I'm going to freak out no matter what."

He smiles and nods in agreement. "You're right. We're done. We should be celebrating and relaxing." He says, placing his mug back down on the table with a small clink, exchanging it for the remote. "I don't think I've watched TV in about a million years." He tells me, running his fingers through his curly hair before adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"And I don't think I've been close to you in about a million years, so if you don't mind..." I put my mug next to his, patting his leg to make room for me. He smiles and opens his wide for me, so I slide my body between his long legs to let my back press against his chest. My body pours into his familiar mould and his hands sculpt around my waist, resting against my stomach. He breathes deeply, his chest swelling then falling with an ease I haven't been surrounded with lately. I trail my hands down his arms and lace our fingers together, tilting my head back against his shoulder as he turns on the television and picks an episode of _Friends._  We only let go when the theme song comes on, uniformly clapping four times as the music plays, laughing at each other while he presses his lips against my temple, our eyes on the screen as our two bodies shape into one.

I can't remember the last time I felt this good, and putting the awful exams aside, I wouldn't want to change anything.

"I have football in a few hours, you know." I remind him, looking up to press my mouth against his jaw. He sticks his bottom lip out and I laugh, shaking my head.

"Will you come back here after?" He asks, looking down at me. His fingertips graze the exposed skin just above my trousers and I'm so happy we don't have to deal with school anymore.

"Mhmm," I mumble, concentrating on the layer of goosebumps his fingers stimulate. "Will your mum and dad be home by then?"

"I think so," he says breathily, and I let out a small groan.

"Boo," I complain, turning around to kneel, pulling him to sit up with me. His legs are still around me and his smile reminds me of the sun, but his warm hands leave my skin and I have to take them in mine so he's comfortable having them around my hips again. I make sure he's against my bare skin, building up my compulsiveness from earlier. "We can't kiss out here when your parents get home." I mutter, shifting my palm up to his neck and bring myself closer to him so I can get what I want. My lips barely brush across his and I can feel his breath come to a halt, making me grin while his eyes flutter closed in response to my electric touches. His hands fall limp, but he doesn't take them off of me. I put pressure against the side of his mouth, his thick curls tickling my fingers.

"What are you doing?" He mumbles, his voice so quiet that I can barely hear him.

"Kissing you," I tell him, sliding my lips across the surface of his to press them against the other corner of his mouth, and I don't think this should count as a kiss but I'll always be obsessed with how easily he surrenders to me.

"No you're not," he whispers with a desperation, and his fingers prod at my skin to bring me closer to him.

"Someone's impatient," I tease, still avoiding his mouth so I can watch him melt between my fingers and fall apart in all the best ways.

"Yes," he agrees, eyebrows furrowing together in frustration. He could easily push himself forward, but I don't think his brain can register the action. " _Louis_."

His eyes are still closed and my heart begins thumping so loudly that I don't know how much longer I can go without him. I tilt his jaw up a little more, slowly applying a deeper pressure against him. Our lips move almost too softly -  too careful - and even his tongue is painfully gentle. The consuming passion builds up and I run my fingers through his hair while holding him in place so he can't back away, although I can't see why he'd want to. I let our lips mould together and our tongues slide across each other's teeth and lips like we haven't touched in years. It's so good to have him with me again, and as his grip on my skin becomes rougher, more intense and needy, our desperation grows with it. I wrap my thin lips around his thick bottom one, sucking gently and letting my tongue become familiar with it's taste. A small noise leaves his mouth and I grin, giving him a teasing bite. He leans forward more so he can get me closer and have me rougher, his lips smooth as they melt against mine. The ecstasy thickens and the longer I'm with him, the more intoxicating he gets.

"How the hell have I lived my whole life without knowing I liked guys?" I chuckle, keeping my fingers embedded in his hair.

"I don't know, it's just nice that you've figured it out while I was around." He speaks, gently pressing his lazy kisses to my mouth.

"Mhmm," I agree, carelessly kissing him as much as I can. "Ugh - I don't want to go to football."

He grins into my mouth, caressing my skin with his thumb. "Since when do you dread going to football? It's your favourite thing in the world." He reminds me, and I give it a shrug before draping my arms around his neck.

"Since you became my favourite thing in the world," I say it to him just to watch his cheeks flush pink.

"Gross," Marcel chuckles, leaning back so he rests against his pillow again.

His hands are removed from my waist and the loss of them leaves cold patch on my sides that sink their way to my stomach. I lay next to him, completely consumed with how good he feels. It still amazes me, as easily as he amazes me. His arm hooks around my shoulders so I'm pulled into him, my hand resting against his chest and it's so comfortable that I want to fall asleep. We fit together well enough that I get more and more tired as each second passes, hypnotized with the rise and fall of his chest. His laughter vibrates through me whenever something funny is on the telly and it rings through my core. I close my eyes and don't know how much longer I can pretend that I don't want this. I don't know how I've been hiding this from myself for so long.

"When did you know you liked guys?" I ask curiously, then let my mind wander to any other guys he might have been with or guys that made him realise this.

"Um..." He shifts a little before resting his head against mine. "I think I always kind of knew? Like when I was a kid, I didn't really fancy the girls like my friends did and I liked being around boys more. When I got older it was kind of obvious that I didn't feel anything for girls and I wanted to be with guys and I didn't really have anything against it so I was just okay with it." He presses his mouth to my temple and I look up at him with a soft smile. I try not to be jealous knowing I'm not the first guy he's liked before, but I'm not surprised. If anything, I'm surprised it took me this long to figure it out  myself. "Then I met you, and it was really obvious." He chuckles and I run my fingertips along the hem of his shirt.

"When did you like me?" I wonder. Out of all the times I've made his life miserable, I don't know how he's let himself be happy with me.

"A while ago, actually," he speaks vaguely and I let out a laugh, wondering if that was a couple weeks or months before we started dating.

"When is 'a while ago'?" I ask and look up to his pink cheeks.

"Uh - like a little bit after I moved here? I don't know. I guess I didn't really _like_ you, I just thought you were attractive." His blush deepens as my eyes widen, my mind clicking back to when he came here nearly almost two years ago.

"You liked me over a year ago? When I was a complete fucking douchebag to you, you liked me?"

"No, I said I thought you were attractive," he laughs, and I feel it in his ribcage. "But I liked you before you even noticed me and before you hated me."

"You're joking," I deny, finding it the hardest thing to believe. I assumed he hated me since his first day here until we became good friends. Any sane person would have hated me, but it could make sense because you don't need to like someone to find them attractive.

"Well that _did_  go away when you decided that I wasn't worthy enough to be around." He reminds me and I cringe at how ignorant I used to be. Right now it seems hard to picture my life without Marcel and just a few months ago I couldn't care less if he was halfway around the world. I might have preferred it.

"I'm sorry I was such a prick." I say again, because I'll never stop apologizing for it. Still, no matter how many times I say it, I don't think anything will make up for how I treated him. "I didn't even have a reason to hate you and I did. Then I pretended to hate you when my friends wanted me to and I was so fucking stupid. I'm sorry."

He shrugs and shoots me a sad smile. "I know you're sorry." He says, giving me a small squeeze. "You don't have to keep telling me."

"Yes I do," I insist, a frown setting between my eyebrows because I've done so much that I can hardly remember it all. "You don't deserve that. I should have been so much better to you."

He intertwines out fingers then lifts them to his mouth so he can press it to the back of my hand.

"It's okay," he presses. "It's done and over. We don't need to talk about it if we can't change anything."

I nod, only wanting him to know that I'd take it all back if I could. Every conversation about what used to happen between us fills me with regret because I could have spent all that time kissing him and getting to know what it's like to be in the right place. I spent so long pushing myself away from who I was that it erased from my mind completely, leaving Marcel to tug me back into place. I know what my life would be like without him, and thinking about it sets a heavy pit in the bottom of my chest and stomach, weighing my entire body down.

"So you don't like girls then?" I ask, hugging him tightly against me. I've always been curious about that too, even if I assumed he doesn't from the lack of opinion he's ever had on girls.

"Nope," he confirms, and I'm a bit relieved to know there's less competition. "But what about you?" He asks, turning his body towards me a bit. "When did you know you were gay?"

I want to bury my face in my hands and make sure he can't see any of my expressions as I try to come up with a lie that won't make him uncomfortable. I can't exactly say I wanked to the thought of you giving me a blowjob because I don't even know if I'm comfortable with what I did yet. Sex with him would make me panic to the point of possibly needing to go to the hospital. _Kissing_ him for the first time made me panic, so I don't know how the hell I'd be comfortable doing more. I know I'm supposed to want those things now because those are the things I'm supposed to be attracted to, but the mere thought of what might happen makes me nervous so I avoid thinking about it at all.

"I don't really know," I say, which is somewhat honest. I think I knew I was gay a long time ago but I'd always push it away as if that would stop it. "I thought I was bisexual at first because I've been with girls, but I think I was just angry with myself and wanted a choice. I wanted to be able to be with a girl to make things easier."

"Was it because of your dad?"

"Mostly," I admit. I still don't know how I'm going to tell him about this and when I'll ever be ready to do so. "But then I found out I don't feel anything for girls and that would never happen and that I really liked you and I wasn't going to get a choice." He smiles a little bit and I kiss his dimple. "Then I cried for a bit when I knew I couldn't do anything about it."

He chuckles, pulling me closer into him. "You seem to cry a lot."

"Well you've basically been the whole damn reason I cried in the first place." I tease. It was a dub thing to cry about, but I don't think there was a chance I would be relieved to figure out that sort of information being who I was and who I was surrounded with.

"Well if you didn't cry about me, you would have cried about some other guy." He reminds me, but I hate the idea of some other guy. I want the one guy and no one else.

"I don't want to cry about someone else." I tell him, a faint smile across my lips while I keep looking at him. He's so beautiful and I'm scared he might find someone else.

"Are you still..." He trails off and looks down at our hands, running his fingers along the back of my hand and around my wrist. "Are you still mad at yourself?"

I frown and look up at his disappointed expression. "Why would I be mad at myself?"

"Because I know you were before. Like, when you knew you were gay and you didn't want people to hate you because you still thought it was wrong." He says, not making any eye contact with me. His cheeks go red again and I can tell the topic makes him nervous, but I'm more surprised that he's asking me about it. I never thought he'd be wondering these things, but I'm glad he's saying something about it now rather than later. "Do you still think that?"

I shake my head. Everyone and everything else just seems wrong now, and I can't imagine thinking this is wrong anymore. I never knew what was right until I was with him so I'd have to lose my mind in order to change that.

"No," I tell him and he nods, but his eyebrows are still furrowed together. He's been off the past few days and I don't know what's wrong, but he's happy until something happens, then he gets quiet again. I don't want him to be quiet. I want him laughing and smiling and kissing me as much as he can before we're not alone anymore.

"So I don't make you uncomfortable?" He asks, and I chuckle while wanting to smooth the lines of worry along his face.

"I wouldn't be with you like this if you made me uncomfortable." There's no way in hell I'd been kissing him like I do if I was uncomfortable. I wouldn't even be on the same sofa as him, and maybe not even the same house. I went through the stage of being uncomfortable, but that lasted about a couple of days before I needed to be around him again.

"Are you doing okay?" I ask, and my eyes can spot the half moons under his eyes have deepened a shade. His skin is a little more pale than usual and he isn't looking at me as much as he does when he's happy. He looks tired and in need of something to fill the gaps I can barely see.

He looks down at me and places his hand on my neck, cupping my jaw so it's tilting towards him. He leans forward and presses our lips together softly, and so slow it's almost painful.

"I'm okay," he assures, and I mostly want to push myself to believe him so I don't make anything worse. If it was anything bad, he'd probably tell me. He knows we can talk about stuff together and after asking me these things today I think he'll tell me.

So I let him keep kissing me. He always seems happier when he does, and I'm always happier with whatever the hell he decides to do.

 

Marcel's POV

"I'm okay." I lie, insane thoughts beginning to creep their way back to my mind. I kiss him to convince him further because I know nothing is okay. I'm not going to be okay for a while now. My mind is already racing around him not wanting me anymore and all the things he used to say to me and the things that might happen between us and if we're going to find someone else.

By the time he leaves I've convinced myself that he still meant every shitty thing he's done to me and he pities me too much to leave me. The kisses temporarily calm the thoughts, but I'm scared that he eventually won't be enough and I'll be on my own again. I'm scared he'll think I'm bored of him or I'll be too much to handle and he'll leave me. I'm scared all my improvement will turn to shit and I'll be back where I was before we were even friends.

These are the thoughts that don't stop growing and even if Louis keeps laughing with me and telling jokes that would normally put me into an aching fit of laughter, it's hard to laugh when my head starts yelling at me.

Then he has to ask me again if I'm okay.

"You don't have anything to talk about?" He wonders, his fingertips running along my skin as he looks up at me.

I shake my head, wishing I could say something.

"You're not upset about anything?" He goes on. "Are the exams bugging you?"

I push a laugh out of me, shaking my head again.

"I've just been tired. I wasn't sleeping well when I was revising." I tell him, resting my head in the crook of his neck so he can't read the lie off my expression. "I should probably go to bed early tonight."

I already know that won't happen. It'll be early in the morning and I'll still be staring at the ceiling with salty tears on my cheeks and words jamming themselves into every corner of my mind until my brain throbs.

"You look sad when you're tired," he chuckles, kissing my shoulder.

 _I'm tired because I'm sad_.

"You should take a nap when I leave." He suggests, and I nod when I hate the thought of closing my eyes. I won't have anything to distract me from thinking, and I wish he didn't have to leave in the first place so I'd be all alone. He might come back and I could be a mess, and if seeing myself like that scares the shit out of me, it'll be worse for him to experience. I never want him to go through that so I can't let him see me like that either.

"I'll try," I agree, forcing as much honestly I can.

His smile shines brighter than all the stars and he brings his hand down to my hip, giving it a small squeeze. It's comforting to have him here and the extra warmth holds me back from so much anxiety, but once that's gone I don't know how much time I'll have. I don't like lying to him but I'm going to hate if he leaves me.

So I keep my arms around him and hold on as tightly as I can for as long as I can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... So I haven't updated in a really long time... And I'm so very sorry but I've been so busy this summer and I just moved to another city. I'm in university now and my classes will start thursday so I'm going to be busy again soon. I still promise to update as much as I can even if it isn't as frequent as you guys might want...  
>  Love you so much and thank you if you've kept up with this fic when I can't! :)


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Days [v] // Parts of the Past

Songs for this chapter:

[for him. - Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pv8e2oLW0v0)

 

Marcel's POV

I got a migraine right before Louis left for football yesterday. An aura slashed across my vision and my head pounded incessantly, and he stayed with me for as long as he could before he had to leave, giving me kisses that he insisted would cure me. I tried to smile as much as I could although it was hard, but still threw up twice after he left. I groaned in pain until he came back, but it seemed endless. There was no source of relief and the physical pain only added to the mental until my muscles ached and my brain was fried. I did everything I could to put myself at ease, but my room was as dark as possible and my blankets were pulled over my head, yet I still couldn't sleep.

I was never more relieved when he came back to me, convinced he wouldn't want to see me groan and complain about everything hurting and having to get up to heave everything I ate into the toilet. He keeps quiet, staying with me and massaging my neck and scalp until I finally fell asleep. I had no dreams and nothing to worry about for those few hours and even if it's days later and my head doesn't hurt, I'm still wondering when it's going to happen again and if Louis will be around for it. I wonder if he's going to be around for a panic attack and I wonder what he's going to think of me if he ever sees it happening.

I just want to sleep.

"It's fucking freezing outside." Louis is complaining as soon as he opens my door, before turning around to close and lock it.

He's got a thick jumper over his torso and a frown on his face when he comes close to me. I shift my position in bed and he welcomes himself to lay down beside me, lifting my arm so he can fit underneath it. His head is against my chest and my arm curves around the slope of his back, keeping him against me. I know he hates the cold and it makes him grumpy, but it makes me smile to see him like that because it means he's going to take every chance to get closer to me for warmth.

"It's called winter, Lou," I chuckle, pulling him closer to me. The amount of comfort impressed against me is too much to want to be somewhere else.

"It's called fucking cold," he corrects, and I rub his back with a simper across my lips.

"You sound angry with the world," I comment, although I know he would never be genuinely angry about the weather.

"Because I'm angry that it's cold out." He tries to suppress a grin, pressing his lips to my jaw. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhmm," I say honestly.

I think my brain has finally found its limit, and I'm numb to everything but him. I haven't been able to do anything properly for the last few days, walking around like I'm out of my own body. I fumbled over my words talking to my parents and teachers and when I sit in bed my only question is _when will this stop?_

"So I can kiss you and you won't throw up?" He wonders and I roll my eyes, nodding because that will take away my partial insanity.

He sits up with a wide smile that overpowers his grumpy mood, and icy fingers slide across my neck sending chills to my toes. He's smiling as our lips touch and I feel his ivory teeth graze across my bottom lip, causing the air to escape my lungs in the best way possible. Everything goes dark and I force all my concentration to the points of pressure he applies to my body - where his hands are and his mouth is and his hips and thighs against the side of me. His tongue embosses a minty flavour on my taste buds, curving it's way around my mouth until my head is airy.

"Boys are great," he mumbles, kissing me through lazy smiles. "Actually _you're_ just great." My hands run over his thick jumper and I want to laugh, but can't find enough oxygen to do so. "You don't know how much I wish I knew you sooner." He says, still cupping my jaw with his smaller hands. "I wouldn't have had to put up with all those girls." He goes on, still kissing me. "-Would've made my life much easier."

My brain can finally register his words and come up with some of my own so I don't make an idiot out of myself repeating him.

"Your life would've been easier if you weren't such a dick." I joke, and he grins widely.

"I guess that was one of the bigger problems, hey?" He says, dropping his hand from my neck to my waist.

"I think you were just the problem altogether." I tease and he laughs, shaking his head.

"Well I sure as hell don't seem like a problem anymore," he points out, leaning in to kiss me once again.

Our lips touch and a ringing noise echoes throughout the room, causing me to jump back. The noise gets my heart racing before my brain slowly starts doing it's proper job, telling me it's just his phone. I'm still breathing heavy with a racing heart when he pulls it out of his pocket, Amanda's name flashing on the screen.

"Shit," he groans, dropping his head down on my chest again. "I don't want to talk to her."

I smirk and put my arms around him, not feeling the least bit guilty that he's choosing me over her now. I'll gladly let him talk this way about her now that I know how much she held him back - along with all his other friends and his father.

"You don't _have_ to talk to her," I remind him and he looks down at his mobile, shrugging when he ends the call.

"You're very right," he says, but not even five seconds later, she's ringing again.

He laughs and sits up. "I'm in trouble," he sighs, sliding his finger across the screen. "Hello?"

He pauses and I can hear her high pitched voice through the speaker.

"I didn't mean to," Louis begins, pulling an annoyed face while she keeps talking. "I'm a bit busy right now, can't we talk later?"

Her voice blabs on and Louis continues to mock her, and this brings me more joy than it should.

"I really have to go, I promise I'll let you know when I'm free." He waits a few seconds and his eyes flicker to me. I immediately know there's something being said that I shouldn't hear, so the hesitation feels like minutes. "Uh - yeah. Love you too."

His words are quick and mumbled and quiet, but I hear them clearly. My chest fills with weight when it shouldn't, but I hate the sound of those words being said to someone else - especially her. They slip off his tongue mechanically and I know he's uncomfortable with it, but I wonder if he'd be more comfortable without me in the room. I wonder how much he's said that to her since we've been together and I wonder if parts of him love parts of her even if he can't be _in_ love with her.

He hangs up the phone and he looks away from me. There's a dead silence in the room that sinks deep inside of me.

"Sorry," he says, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.

We sit there and I swallow hard so I can speak, even if I don't know what to say. My brain finds a way to make room for more doubts because I don't know why he has to say that to her when he told me he doesn't love her. I'm jealous because even if I'm not in love with him yet, every part of me plans to be.

"Do you still love her?" I ask. My eyes find their way to my hands and I trace my knuckles until his fingers lace around them.

"No," He answers, but most of me doesn't believe him, and it's going to be hard to convince me otherwise. "I never loved her, you know that."

I answer with a single nod.

"Marce, I can't love her." He insists, and I clear my throat because there's a lump forming and I can't do this in front of him.

"Uh - can you just-" His thumb is brushing along mine and I use it to form proper sentences. "You can say it to her if you need to. I know you have to, and I know you don't mean it." I hope I can convince myself I'm telling the truth, because I can hardly believe the words are coming out of my mouth. "Don't say it in front of me though."

I let out a laugh to make the situation less awkward and act like I'm less upset about it. I probably look ridiculous in his eyes, and I only want to be happy with him so hope we can stop talking about it. I don't like him seeing me upset and I don't want him to be so concerned with how I'm feeling that he gets caught up in it until he gets sick of me.

"I won't say it. I promise," he says, shifting his body closer to mine. "Hey..." His fingers press lightly under my chin and even if I don't want to look at him, I do. "I don't want anyone else but you."

I bite down on my bottom and repeat his words over and over in my head so they can convince me he isn't lying. He's never lied to me. He wouldn't lie to me. He wants me.

"Okay," I agree, pulling our hands into my lap.

He's too good for me and I can't understand why or how he's stayed so long. I wouldn't have been surprised if he left me a week into the relationship. I'd be sad, but I wouldn't be surprised. I've rarely had any friends let alone a boyfriend, so it's hard for me to believe that people want to be around me. I'm used to people pushing me away from them because they don't like me, and as much as I don't want that to happen anymore, I can't help but expect it.

He kisses me longer and softer until I forget about him loving other people. I can't assume he doesn't want me or he's going to leave me. If he says he's not leaving, I have to trust that he won't. This will never work if I keep waiting for him to explode on me or tell me he's done.

"Are you sure everything's been okay with you?" He wonders, and I already want to tell him.

I want to take a hammer to my walls and show him every part of me and I want to tell him why I am the way I am. I want him to know that there's a reason I don't speak so much and why I get so worried. I want him to know that I'm not actually tired but I'm so damn _tired_. I want him to comfort me and I want him to tell me I'm going to be okay and I want him to be there for me because no one else is. I want him to be the one I can go to for everything instead of being alone all the time and I want him to be there in case I get better so I can be good enough for him.

I want to tell him but I don't. I _can't_.

"Everything's okay," I repeat robotically, like I'm programmed to do what isn't necessary. "Did you want to get something to eat downstairs? My mum is probably making something for dinner."

He nods, dropping the subject just as quickly as I change it. I'm glad we don't have to talk about it longer because then there would be more things for me to think about and over-analyse when he's gone.

We walk downstairs holding hands for as long as we can, only letting go when my mum turns around to look at us.

"Hi, boys," she greets, a smile on her face as she runs her hands under the tap and wipes them on her apron. She's been into cooking for the family a lot lately, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind Louis complementing her for brownie points to redeem later on.

"Are you staying for dinner, Louis?"

"If you don't mind," he says, sliding into a stool beside me.

"We're probably going to have lots, it's not a problem." She insists, but she would probably insist he stays if he said no. She adores him and I enjoy that so whenever she finds out about us there won't be any complaints. "Company is always nice, anyway."

I grin as she wraps her fingers around a knife, placing the palm of her free hand on the dull side of the blade as she continues to chop vegetables. Outside of the cooking, there's an awkward silence and I'm begging for someone to speak so we don't have to sit like this any longer.

"Oh, Marcel. I forgot to ask what cake you wanted for your birthday, the bakery rung me at work but I wasn't sure if you wanted that chocolate one again this year." My mum breaks the ice and I wish we'd go back to the silence. I haven't told Louis when my birthday is and I didn't plan on saying anything, but as I look to Louis and he raises his eyebrows, smirking at me.

"Your birthday is coming up?" He asks, making sure to comment loud enough that my mother hears.

In my mind, I've never liked celebrating my birthdays. Something always happened that made me end up crying, and the date was a constant reminder that I've survived another year of hell, and nothing more. I have barely an ounce of optimism for this birthday to be any better, and I know Louis is probably going to be busy with something and won't be able to make it or something will happen like last year and everything will turn to shit. I'm done with getting my hopes up, so I didn't want to drag Louis into it. He's been involved in the shitty birthdays before and I don't want to have to explain anything to him because he evidently doesn't remember what happened.

Even before I knew Louis my birthdays were bad. When I was younger I was always excited to invite other kids to play games and not a single one would show up. I used to have a friend in one town I grew up in and she'd come, but after we left I was stuck with no one again. I'd cry and my parents would have to comfort me and they'd start inviting family members so I wouldn't feel as bad, as if the presents they showered me in were going to wash away my loneliness. I'd try every year, until I got older and realized nobody wanted me around and didn't want to be around me. I'd notice people avoiding me and when they didn't avoid me they were making jokes about me, so I learned to keep to myself and let my parents throw me parties that involved my family and their friends. I learned to be seen as little as possible because I gave up on making an effort with people, like many other things.

"You didn't hear?" My mum asks, frowning at me in a way that insists I'll be getting in trouble if Louis isn't coming to the party. "Robin talked to your father and we got the venue booked."

Louis expression flashes between disbelief, amusement, and a teasing anger.

"How was I unaware of this?" He chuckles, his gaze on me.

"It must have slipped my mind," I explain, looking to Louis with a tight smile that makes him laugh. "You're welcome to come if you want. There will obviously be chocolate cake and too much food."

"I'd love to come," he states, shaking his head at me once my mum turns away from us, a smile still on her face. He lowers his voice so she doesn't hear his next words. "After all, you should usually want the person you're dating to be at things like birthdays. Even _friends_ enjoy them."

"We'll be there at seven," mu  continues, and I know Louis will never forgive me for this. I thought it would be easy to go without him knowing, but now that I think it over there would be a lot of excuses involved so he doesn't know. "And since Marcel obviously isn't a fan of telling you things, his birthday is on the first of February."

She's mostly looking at me and I know she isn't upset that I didn't tell Louis, but she'll joke about it later on and ask if I didn't invite him because she's too embarrassing to be around.

"I wonder what else he hasn't told me." Louis begins and I try to get him to stop before he starts, but it's too late. The teasing might not stop for a while "Do you have any siblings? Are you _actually_ seventeen? Do you even need to wear glasses?"

"It was _one_ thing," I groan, burying my face in my hands. I laugh away the guilt because having him there will be more fun, but I don't want this year to turn out all the rest and I don't want to explain to him why he wasn't invited in the first place. I don't like talking about unhappy subjects with him because I don't want to make him unhappy.

"I'm not even sure if I know your real name at this point, who knows what's next?" He jokes, throwing his arms up enthusiastically.

My mum is laughing at the two of us and I don't think I'm going to get any more embarrassed. I can't stop smiling and it makes me forget about why I didn't want to tell him in the first place. I want to keep laughing with him instead of bringing up Amanda and want happened between us when we weren't friends and all his other friends treating me so shitty. I don't want to talk about it because then there's a less of a chance that I'll feel so tired all the time.

"Why don't you two wash your hands and actually help me finish up instead of watch?" Mum suggests, and Louis stands up with a smile.

"That's a lovely idea. Come on, Marcel." He says and I roll my eyes, my lips tugged into a constant smile.

We clean up before helping out, and Louis has no idea what to do except sneak pieces of food when my mum isn't looking. He teases me and pinches at my sides when I try to do something productive, and I'm sure my mum wishes she never asked us to help in the first place. Louis couldn't cook to save his life, but he's pretty damn good at looking useful.

My dad is working late tonight so the three of us eat alone, Louis sitting as close as possible to me. His hand reaches out and touches my leg every now at then, thumbs and forefingers caressing my outer thigh. It's hard pretending like nothing is happening, but whenever my mum isn't looking I sneak in my fair share of touches. I can't go long without doing so anyway, especially when he's right next to me.

By the time we put our dishes away, I'm sure my mum loves Louis at least ten times more than she used to and I'm ten times more excited to tell her we're together, even if that might not be for a while. I'm confident there won't be any judgement from her or my dad, as they've never had anything bad to say about gay people. I think they must have some ideas by now anyway, since I never talk about girls and have never been in a relationship with anyone other than Louis, and he's around all the time now. We're attached at the hip and I don't think many other guys who are "just friends" do that.

He makes sure we get back upstairs quickly, closing and locking my door behind us.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday soon?" He asks, sitting at the foot of my bed with his legs criss-crossed and both of his hands holding mine.

"I don't know," I shrug, letting out a small laugh. We've already had one serious moment today and I didn't think we'd get into another one. I'm not used to talking this much, and I was hoping he would avoid asking me this question altogether. "There's too many people and some of them I barely know and it's awkward opening gifts in front of everyone and being the centre of attention and stuff."

The lie could be convincing if it came from anyone else but me. Louis sees through it immediately, causing me to immediately regret saying it.

"You're lying..." He says, still trying to maintain his smile while he can. He can tell it's serious and I wish that was enough to get him to stop asking questions. "What happened?"

"What?"I shake my head and force out a laugh that children would know is fake. "I just don't think birthdays should be a big deal." He raises his eyebrows, all playful expressions beginning to diminish so I have to explain myself. "Nothing, it was just Sam last year, but it wasn't really a big deal."

I'm hoping I don't remember everything he said and what everyone else said and what I can still feel. If I say anything, Louis is going to remember and I'm going to want to forget that day happened more than I have in the past year. Louis didn't know it was my birthday that day, but I doubt it would make a difference in the events that took place if he did

"What did he do last year?" He wonders, and even if I'm trying to force it away and come up with subtle excuse, I can remember every degrading action that took place and the pain of it all and how long I thought about it afterwards and that I still think of it like it happened yesterday.

"He was just saying some stuff to me in front a lot people." I continue, keeping the details vague because they're all too vivid in my mind. I don't want to remind him of how severe it was and it might hurt too much to say it out loud.

"Was I there?" He wonders, and all I picture is how hard he laughed when I threw up in front of everyone.

"I don't think so," I tell him, confident that this is the most I've lied in twenty four hours.

I can tell he's trying to think back and I want to find any words to distract him, but all I'm thinking of is what they did. It was nearly a year ago and most people would have at least made peace with it now but I can't seem to get even close to that.

"Oh fuck," he freezes and his thumb stops moving across my hand. I don't want to see the look on his face because I don't know if he's going to look guilty or if he still finds it funny or if he couldn't care less. "That's when he hit you and you-"

The lump in my throat is painful and I can't cry in front of him, but I should be used to forcing it away by now. He lets go of my hands and I think he might laugh or try to get father away from me until he sits right next to me, sliding his arms around my shoulders. He hasn't held me this tight before and it feels good, even if it's full of sympathy. There's no amusement or judgement towards me for still hating that day. He isn't telling me to get over it and nothing is going wrong so far.

"I laughed at you." He mutters it quietly like he doesn't want the world to hear, even if I feel like they all know. "I'm so sorry, I was so fucking stupid before I knew you. That's not an excuse because there's nothing that will make that right. Its fucked up and you don't deserve that."

He pulls back with his hands on the sides of my face and I wish I could cry. It hurts not to, but I think it will hurt to let it out just as much. Plus, I can't let Louis see me cry like that. I've cried in front of him before, but it was never over something like this. He's never seen me genuinely upset over something that's happened when we weren't dating and I don't plan on showing him.

"I just-" my voice cuts off and I blink away my tears rapidly. _I don't want to think about it_. "Birthdays always suck." I try to laugh, but that just hurts more. "Even when I was younger, I'd invite people over and they wouldn't come. I was a complete dork with these huge glasses and I was too weird for anyone to want me around."

He frowns, sitting directly beside me so he can keep looking at me. I want to look at him because I like the way he looks at me, but it's difficult to keep eye contact now. I don't talk about these things with anybody and at one point I thought it might be a bit easier to talk about it with Louis, but it isn't. I'm still scared to hear what he's going to say or wonder if he's going to change his mind about me.

"Remember Amelia that I told you about?" I ask, and he nods slowly and gravely. He's so quiet that my ears ring and the sound of my voice becomes so loud that I feel the need to whisper. "She's the only one that would come, and when she was gone I was alone again. It happened every year after that so I stopped trying. It's probably stupid, but I just didn't want to go through it again."

"It's not stupid," he tells me, but all I can remember is Sam punching me and Louis watching how much pain I was in. There were so many people around and vomiting made it all worse. Louis laughed the hardest, but it wasn't the sunshine smile I adore so much. It was clouded with darkness and toxins that gave me every reason to hate him. Now, he looks at me so differently that's hard to believe he was like that. I don't see him as the guy who would do anything to humiliate me, but the person that I look forward to seeing every day.

"I'm going to make it up to you." He insists, running his hands down my arms. He still holds me close and if he was any further away I think I'd be crying by now. I don't like talking about this stuff because it makes me think more and I do enough of that already. "I'll make sure this is the best birthday you've had and I promise I won't let anyone ruin it."

He laughs and I try to smile as much as I can because I haven't had a good birthday in years. The idea of having one now doesn't seem real, but if Louis is there that's all I need.

"I'll shower you in expensive gifts that are completely unnecessary and kiss you whenever you want and we can be alone whenever you want and I'll come to your dinner thing and make sure your family loves me so they can't be mad at me when we tell them about us and it will literally be the best birthday you've ever had."

I start laughing and wrap my arms around his waist so I can hug him tightly because that's one of the best things I've heard in a while.  _When_ we tell them. Not if. I'm not playing games trying to figure out if he's ever going to be ready for other people to know.

"You're the best best friend in the world." I breathe deeply, his musky cologne filling my nostrils slowly. He laughs, kissing me until I feel like I've never cried before.

" _Best best_ friend?" He questions, going back to holding my hands. His eyes have settled smoothly on my face and I don't feel the need to look away from him anymore.  "You couldn't come up with a real word?"

I can feel myself blush but he quickly makes me forget why I ever worried in the first place. I need to get used to telling him things, even if I'm not going to tell him _everything_. So far nothing bad has happened when stuff like this has been brought up, but I think I'll always have doubts and picture it all turning to shit.

"You are the culmination of best friends and boyfriends and a paramount importance to me." I correct, still smiling while he nods in approval.

"That's more like it," he agrees, and we both laugh, somehow getting closer together.

"Honestly, though. I can't believe I did that to you." He says, still sincere and more quiet. It means a lot that he's genuine about his apologies, but part of me doesn't know what to say after he says sorry. "You mean so much to me now that I don't see how I was so fucking cruel to you."

I shrug, my forehead resting on his shoulder. It's going to take me a while to want to talk about it.

"So what do you want for your birthday?" He asks, smiling as I lift my head. "People say money can't buy happiness, but every time I spend it life seems a little easier. So if you need a million gifts for me to make everything up to you, I will."

I laugh again and don't understand why he wants to do so much for me all the time. Even if I know he has money, I've been so independent for so long that it seems weird to have another person buy me things. 

"Nothing big," I tell him honestly. I still feel awkward opening gifts in front of people, and if people are around when I'm opening his it'll be even worse because "friends" don't tend to give me gifts. "I'll be happy if you're with me so I'm sure you'd could get me a card and I'd be excited."

He rolls his eyes and runs his fingers along my knuckles. "If you don't want big, I'll just get a bunch of small shit and you know it."

"I don't need presents," I insist. I can see him getting something I won't need or something that will make me want to repay him. It's not that I won't appreciate it, I just won't need him to spend money on me for us to be happy together.

"Everyone needs presents," he corrects. "Come on, you're going to be eighteen. Do you want to get legally wasted instead?"

I laugh and shake my head. "God, no," I deny. Something about purposely giving yourself a painful hangover doesn't scream celebratory to me, and it makes me wonder what's so great about it in the first place.

"Then I guess I'm choosing and maybe you won't like what I give you."

I shrug my shoulders without a complaint, stubborns agreeing. "Sure. It doesn't matter to me," I say.

"You're too difficult," he groans, laughing loudly.

He tries to force an answer out of me the rest of the night, and I refuse to give one to him. It keeps him laughing and lighting up the room and making me forget everything until I don't feel shitty anymore. He makes me question if I needed to go to the doctor in the first place or if this is all temporary and I should just stay with him to stay happy. It's all so small even if it digs the deepest of holes, and Louis always comes back to fill in the missing pieces. Still, he can't stay here with me forever and soon enough this will be another year with no changes. I'm not going to think normally all the time or even be comfortable with myself, and even if I feel good right now and Louis has put everything back in it's place, soon all his patches will wear and I'll be left barren for any future wounds.

Louis is trying to convince me to let him buy me a birthday tattoo when I make the choice to stop thinking about everything else for once. Things are good right now and if I keep wondering when the next bad thing will happen, the next bad thing will come sooner. I want to be happy while I can and while Louis is here so I can't let him see that I'm anxious again. I know the worry won't go away for god because ideas are always lingering in the corners of my mind, but I force them back so he won't notice they're there and he'll keep touching my skin and bringing the sun into the room until I lose memory of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I seem to have more time to update now because we haven't quite started class yet, and I know I've lost quite a few readers so I hope anyone who was previously reading this sees the updates!


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Days [vi]

[Forever - Ben Harper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHzAVDg4m1Q)

[God Damn You're Beautiful - Chester See](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVl5s1e0Oo4)

 

Louis' POV

I look at the never-ending list on my phone, making sure I haven't forgotten anything so I don't have to haul my arse all the way back to the supermarket and do this again. I've already been back and forth and up and down the food isles so many times and still managed to forget something, so I make sure I don't have to do it again before I lose my mind. I've got the plans set out in obsessive order and to the greatest amount of perfection someone like me can reach, so I'm already later than I thought I would be.

Paying for all my items, I take it back to my car and place the bags along the back seats, trying to balance them so everything won't fall out on the ground when I open up the doors again.

I might shoot myself if tonight turns to shit with Marcel. I want him to have fun and forget about last year and the year before that and every other year he had to spend his birthday alone. Even if his actual birthday isn't until tomorrow, I want to pretend it is so he'll remember it as one of the best. We need some alone time away from our parents and the people at school and now that my parents are away, I have the house to myself to spend all the time I need with Marcel tonight. I still have plans for tomorrow, but we won't be alone then. I want to be able to celebrate his birthday without having to lock ourselves in a room when we want to hold hands and kiss.

I was shitty to him before and I know gifts and surprises aren't going to make up for it, but they're smaller things I actually know how to do that make him smile. Every relationship I've been in before him was shit and I don't want to mess it up, so I plan to do everything differently. I'm not going to let myself slowly leave him because I can't picture myself being without him. He makes me the happiest I've been and even if we have to keep this a secret he's going to be worth it. He deserves the best things in the world and even if I'm not one of those things, I hope I can be the person to bring it all to him.

I ring Marcel once he gets home, another hourly reminder and check in to make sure he's still coming over and nothing else has come up that's making him cancel on me. He doesn't know what we're doing tonight yet, I only told him that I have the house to myself so we needed to hang out before my parents got back.

"Hello, my dear." I greet him lightly once he picks up, a grin on my face as I start putting some of the groceries in the refrigerator.

"Are you hinting that you want me over early? These phone calls are happening quite frequently." He points out and I chuckle, my mobile wedged between my shoulder and ear while I shove things onto the already full shelves.

"No, don't come early," I fumble with a package of chicken, trying to slide it inside without dropping my phone. "But you should dress up nice."

"I thought we were just hanging out?" He questions and I come up with a quick, but shitty excuse. He just can't know I have an early birthday gift for him.

"Well maybe I want to take you somewhere too." I say, even if that somewhere might be my dining room.

"Where?" He pipes up, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Well I'm not going to tell you. It's a birthday thing." I laugh, finishing up with the bags before I prop myself up on the marble countertop.

"So I've got to wait another couple hours until I find out?" He wonders and I smile, looking at the clock to figure out I have four hours to get everything together. I think I might be more excited for this than he is, so I wish I started getting things ready earlier so he could be here sooner.

"That's right," I confirm, and the next sound through the speaker is a lengthy groan.

"It's not even my birthday yet, why can't you just tell me?" He complains and the more we wait, the more I want to tell him and have him come over sooner.

"It's supposed to be a _surprise_. It won't be as fun if I tell you." I say, checking the time and hoping I'm not starting this too long in case I mess something up. "But I have to get some more stuff ready, so I'll only ring you one more time to make sure you won't bail on me."

"Why would I bail?" He chuckles. "This is the only thing I've looked forward to this week."

"Sounds good to hear," I say, smiling wide and hope I don't do anything to ruin tonight. "So I'll ring you in a bit, alright?"

"Sure," he agrees, and all I can picture is his smiling face.

We hang up and I compulsively look over all the things I need to do and wonder how long it's going to take me if I have to start over half way through. And if I rush then something will definitely go wrong, so I tell myself I have to do it right the first time or Marcel will get here and nothing will be ready. I keep reading things over on my phone when I begin, and ring Marcel halfway through because I'm obsessed with the sound of his voice alone and it makes me more excited to see him. Everything is made when he tells me he'll be leaving soon, and I have to run upstairs to get dressed so he doesn't catch me in sweatpants and a stained shirt. The suit I planned on wearing hangs up on my closet door so I can throw it on quickly, grabbing one of his gifts before I head downstairs.

I set the gift on the table where he'll be sitting and check my phone twenty times before I get a message from him.

_"*Are we going somewhere right now? I'm outside if you want me to drive.*"_ He says and I tell him to come inside, almost bouncing up and down with impatience.

A few seconds later, the door is unlocking and the sound of Marcel's footsteps crescendo as he gets closer to me. My heart beats with a nervous excitement and I quickly walk over to meet him because there's no way in hell I could stand there waiting any longer. We're both grinning like madmen when we see each other, and I selfishly stare at him to soak up how goddamn amazing he is and how good he always looks.

He takes off his deep green jacket and is in all black but somehow still manages to look like the brightest of lights. The folds of his jacket are a silk material that I want to run my hands along, but I'm stiff in my spot while my brain focuses on every aspect of him at the same time. His hair is pushed up and away from his face, the curls pooling around his ears in crafted wisps, reminding me of what it feels like to have it locked between my fingertips. Glasses are on this bridge of his nose as usual and magnify his sea green eyes, making my mind spin and revolve around him. He's photo ready as if a professional photographer was planning on showing up and I shouldn't deserve him.

He blushes after catching my eyes practically lick their way up his body, but I don't feel the least bit of shame. He needs more attention and since other people are too ignorant to do so, I'll happily make up for them. Besides, I like being comfortable with looking at him in that way. I could barely stand the thought of wanting to be around him too much and was scared shitless the first time I kissed him. Now every time we're together, I'm more and more at ease with who I am. It's nice to know that feeling after forcing myself to think it was wrong.

"You look incredible," I say, my hands snaking their way around his waist.

He smiles softly, his palms pressing against my shoulders. They curve around the muscle and mine dip into his hips before resting on the curve of his back

"You do too," he replies, and I have to push myself up on my toes to kiss him. It's too hard to stop myself now.

Slipping my hand into his, I begin to pull him into the dining room and hope there isn't any last minute screw-ups that I didn't notice. I want him to think everything is perfect and I want him to be happy tonight. It won't make up for the years of destroyed birthdays, but it's a good start to a clean slate.

"So what are we doing?" He wonders, leaning against me while we walk. "I thought-"

My hand is around his waist as we turn the corner, and his words stop once his eyes settle on the arrangement I've come up with. His eyes glisten, the candlelight giving them each a fiery glow in the middle of his ebony pupils. They widen and my heart races anxiously until his lips grow up into a smile, giving me the confidence I needed to get through this night.

"Happy birthday, love."

 

Marcel's POV

The table is draped with a white cloth that nearly touches the floor and a long candle flickers in the centre, illuminating the dim room and gives the silverware an orange tinge to sparkle in. There are plates set up and a single rose in a thin vase, one which has a crisp red colour that will grow softer and deeper as the night goes on. Napkins and cutlery are set up on each side and something savoury wafts into the room from the kitchen, getting stronger as we walk closer towards it. Gently, low music plays from the stereo in the corner, producing a song I've never heard, but intend to remember. I spot a gift on the edge of the small table, a bow simply stuck on top of the unwrapped object. Even if Louis didn't put in all the extra effort, I don't want to be anywhere else in the world.

"You did all this?" I ask, looking down at him. He's beaming up at me, searching for my expression of equal excitement. "For _me_?" The question makes me sound too shocked, but he still nods, resting his cheek against my shoulder.

"We have a night to ourselves and we can pretend we're at a restaurant in some place where people won't stare at us like we've got devil horns poking out of our heads." He tells me and I all I can do is laugh, hugging him tightly.

No one has ever done something like this before. It's small with a vast amount of thought and effort put into it and I didn't know what to expect when I came inside, but I'd never picture this. I've been so used to people putting in as little effort as possible or none at all, so this is a big change. Sure, my parents have done extravagant things for me when it comes to my birthday but even when they see that I don't like being around large crowds, they never make our gatherings any smaller. Something intimate like this is what I need to me more comfortable with myself and with Louis and it's what I needed to believe that he might actually make this the best birthday I've had.

Our lips find their way to each other, but I can't stop smiling.

"Thank you so much," I speak softly and for once in eighteen years I'm not alone, standing here with warm cheeks and and no ache in my chest. the happiest I've ever been on this day.

Right now, there isn't anything I'm worried about and even if we were just going to sit on his sofa and talk for the whole night, I'd still be this happy. My birthday was a celebration for other people before this year, and now Louis is looking at me like other people don't exist. He doesn't need crowds to be happy with me or anything fancy so that people have to talk about how amazing it was. He wants me the same way I want him and I'm not waiting for anything more as this has already exceeded my hopes and expectations.

"Well, Monsieur," he begins, taking my hand and pulling me closer to our table. He picks up what I can now see is a stack of books, handing me them with the red bow on top. "I'm shit at wrapping so a bow is going to have to do."

My eyes widen as I look at all the titles embossed on each spine and a childish, nerdy excitement takes over me as my fingers itch to open them all up and read what's inside.

"How did you know-"

I lift them up and my palm runs along the covers, fingers skimming over the clothbound hardback and dipping into the authors' names.

"I literally took a picture of that great big bookshelf of yours because I didn't want to buy one you already had." He tells me. "Then I had to google books that were actually good, which is quite hard because apparently you've got majority of them."

I'm surprised he found ones I wanted. My parents try getting me books that I barely end up liking, and I force myself to read at least some of it so I don't make them feel bad. With Louis' gift, I'll gladly get through them all.

"Louis, thank you so much," I say, wrapping my arms around him for another tight hug that I don't want to back away from.

"I know you love your books," he speaks, still holding me against his body. "But you have to expect that stacks of paper weren't all I'm getting you, so the rest of your gifts will be ready tomorrow."

"I thought so," I sigh, holding back my smile. I wish he wouldn't give me too many gifts, because he could be spending his money on a lot of other things. "You honestly don't need to give me a lot. I'm very much happy with the 'stacks of paper' here."

He laughs and his blue eyes vivaciously light up and remind me of the ocean, waves enclosing around my body while giving me fresh air to breath. I couldn't stop myself from smiling if I wanted to, and he kisses me even if he's still chuckling quietly.

"Well it's nice spending money on someone I actually give a shit about." He says, and I slide the books back into the table. "I mean - I obviously used to give a shit about Amanda a lot more than I do now and I care about my parents and friends and stuff, but I've never been in a relationship with anyone like you so it's better."

My grin doesn't subside and I still stand close to him with my hands on his curvy waist. They mould into his soft shape and I'd quite like to hold him close to me for the rest of the time we're together.

"'Anyone like you' just means a guy, right?" I correct, and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

"Kind of but not really," he says. "I always used to get Amanda stupid shit like expensive jewellery that never really meant anything because I didn't know what she actually liked. I didn't really care either, or put much effort into trying to find out more about things she actually wanted." He slides his hands up my arms and steps closer to me so our toes touch and there isn't any room between us to make room for so much as a piece of paper. "Everything is so different with you," he speaks softly and doesn't look away from me like he's uncomfortable or nervous. "I spent hours trying to get your damn books and went around way too many shops to buy them all. I got a bunch of other stuff that I know you'll like because the look on your face when you saw the books is all I was hoping for. I never thought I'd feel so much joy just knowing another person was happy." His voice is so soft and I wish I could say something, but when I open my mouth not a single word comes out.

He doesn't seem to be expecting a reply, only giving me another kiss before bringing me over to the table.

He slides my chair out so I can sit down and says, "Tonight we will be served the only meal I have made in my entire life, and I thankfully haven't burned the place down in the process." He stands tall and proud of the work he's done and I'm already proud of him too. "So if you don't like it, there's knives in the kitchen I can stab myself with."

I gape and laugh at him, even if I know I shouldn't.

"Don't joke about that," I say, but he just rolls his eyes. "It smells good, so I'm sure you did well."

He smiles and walks into the kitchen to grab whatever it is he's made, and I try not to stare too long at his thighs and bum in the trousers he wears while my stomach flips in circles. I'm still surprised someone like him has wound up with someone like me, and too often I think of all the people that adore him now and those who will in the future and I wonder how he still stays with me.

He comes back grinning and sets a plate in front of me first, and one on his own placemat.

"It is chicken stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in parma ham, and a side of homemade mash." He presents, and I stare at his hand movements forming circles and moving from side to side and all I can think is _I have never been so lucky_.

He used to be the guy with tattoos and hard eyes and now he's lighting up about the first meal he's ever made, almost jumping up and down to tell me about it.

He takes a seat and stares at me until I take a bite, but barely gives me a chance to taste it before asking: "How is it?"

I laugh and take a moment to form a real thought, allowing the flavour to settle on my tastebuds. I'm not surprised that it's good, after all the effort he put into tonight I wouldn't expect any less.

"It's _really_ good," I tell him truthfully, and he smiles in complete accomplishment.

"Thank the whole fucking world," he breathes, letting out a relieved laugh. "I actually have takeaway in the refrigerator in case you didn't like it. I wasn't going to risk going without food tonight."

I laugh while he reaches across the table to hold my hand, picturing him rushing around to try and get everything perfect and having doubts that it will go wrong last minute. He probably had a backup plan for everything and I'm not used to being that important.

"I like it," I insist. "You've done a lovely job and I can't thank you enough."

His smile is soft and I wish he was close enough to kiss.

"You thank me too much," he says.

"Because you do a lot for me."

"That's what people do for each other." He chuckles, and this comes as too much of a surprise to me.

While we eat he steals a bottle of overly expensive champagne from his parents, insisting they won't know it's gone because there are so many others they don't keep track of it all. He doesn't stop making me laugh and I think this is the first birthday I've had that I don't want to change. Being alone with him shouldn't be so exciting, but I love every second of it so much that I wish we were alone more often. Even if we weren't hiding, we couldn't go to a restaurant like this and keep to ourselves without people staring at us. I don't want anything to change, no matter how often I've wanted to tell someone about us before. I'd like to keep our secret safe. 

"For dessert, I couldn't make anything so we actually have to eat something I bought." He tells me, walking into the kitchen again after we've finished the meal.

"I don't even know if I can eat dessert." I chuckle, my stomach more firm than it was when I arrived.

"You haven't got a choice," he calls out and I laugh, leaning back in my seat and just hope my parents don't want me back home any time soon.

I hear him opening and closing cupboards and drawers and the clanking of silverware on glass plates, then there's a silence before his footsteps come back to me.

" _Happy birthday to you..._ " His voice floats delicately through the room and I know my cheeks are a vibrant red as he steps out with a small cake, two candles flickering on top. The first is a number one and the other is an eight. I never wanted to get old when I was younger and now I'll be happy getting older if he'll be with me every year. " _Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Marcel,_ _happy birthday to you_."

He sets it in front of me and I laugh out of embarrassment, clapping at his small performance. He bends down to kiss me, and I touch my hand to his neck, holding him close to me so it lasts longer.

"Of course it's chocolate, your favourite," he says, and I look down to see _Happy Birthday, M_ iced along the top.

He slides his arms around my shoulders in a backwards-hug and I hold his hands dangling in front of my chest. Being here with him makes me wonder if touching a candle would make me wake up.

"Make a wish then we can have some."

I don't have to think long about what I want like I usually do, closing my eyes and leaning forward so for the first time in eighteen years I wish to have something forever.

"Are you going to tell me what you wished for?" He asks and I laugh, shaking my head.

"It won't come true if I tell you." I point out and he wrinkles his nose.

"That's no fun," he laughs, reaching for a knife to cut us both a piece. "What if I guess? Will you tell me then?"

"No," I grin as he slides the cake onto the plates.

"After _all I've done_ for you tonight." He sighs dramatically and I roll my eyes as he gives me some cake and takes his seat again.

"So you expect something in return for this?" I laugh, cutting into the piece of dark cake with my fork. "Maybe you're not as giving as I thought."

"Whatever," he chuckles, resting his elbow on the table.

We barely finish each of our pieces, or stomachs bulging in each of our bodies when we stand up.

"Now you can choose whatever you'd like to do next because all I had planned is dinner." He admits, the both of us in the kitchen while I put our plates into the sink and Louis cleans up the rest of the food.

"I'm surprised I can even move right now." I say, but I'm still hoping Louis will make me something like this again because it was so good. "I ate too much."

"Agreed," he chuckles, and I feel his arm slide around the small of my back. "I feel like I've gained about twenty pounds."

I roll my eyes and my spine straightens itself, my stomach sinking inwards as soon as his chest presses to my back and his hands rest above my belt. It's instinct, even if I shouldn't worry about what he feels when he touches me like this.

"I'm convinced you're never going to gain weight." I chuckle, my chest swelling as I breathe deeply.

He scoffs and I turn around in his arms.

"Trust me, I gain weight," he laughs, and I wish there was some way I could slim my waist while his hands run up and down my body. "It just all goes to my arse."

I grin and my cheeks heat because that fills my head with too many thoughts.

"There's nothing wrong with that," I comment, and he rolls my eyes before changing the subject.

"I've got all the seasons of _Breaking Bad_." He tells me, and our bodies are so close it leaves me breathless.

"Let's do that," I agree with an airy laugh. "But I'll barely make it upstairs."

"I'll carry you if I have to," he jokes and holds my hand as we make our way to his bedroom.

I'm glad that we'll get to lie down close to each other for the rest of the night, because just being across the table from him was too much of a separation. We spend so much time acting like just friends around people that we need to be close whenever we're alone. I don't take it for granted because in less than twenty four hours we'll have to go back to pretending, so I'll savour all of this while it lasts.

"Your bed is so comfy." My voice is muffled by a pillow that smells like him, and laying on my stomach gives me the deep need to fall asleep.

"I know," he says and I feel the mattress sink in beside me. "I practically live in it whenever I can."

I turn my body to face him, sliding my hand across his waist and wiggle closer to him while we look at each other with smiles. I thought being in a relationship with him would make things weird and awkward, but he's still my best friend. We can still laugh with each other and talk like things are normal, but he kisses me and puts his hands around me says things that not many people do when they're friends. I didn't want to lose my best friend getting into this, and I'll be forever thankful that I haven't. We get closer the longer we're with each other and I can't see much happening to change that.

I look at him again and he's got his tie off, a few buttons undone on his white shirt to allow his sharp collarbones to peak through the opening of the fabric. I can see some black tattoos visible through the delicate white top he wears, and wonder if there's going to be more showing up any time soon. Right now, there's a number 78 that I touch before looking at his face, only to see that he's staring right back at me.

"You're gorgeous." His words are so quiet that I almost don't hear them, but I think I stop breathing because my head gets light and dots are tattooed behind my eyelids before he kisses me. My heart doesn't race and I don't blush like I thought I would. I'm calm and my palms are dry and I'm sure he's the first person to ever tell me that. I couldn't possibly have any insecurities right now, and he seemed to wish away all the bad as soon as he rested his hands on me.

"Thank you," I reply, unaware of how I should be answering the statement.

It's an odd thing to be called, and I'm not quite used to the fact that he thinks I'm attractive and it'll probably take a while for me to know how to act whenever he says it. I've always been terrible at receiving compliments, no matter how small they may be. It's still different hearing him say something compared to other people, but in a good way because his smile reminds me of the waves at the very first beach I stepped foot on. It's soft and wide and soaks me to my core, ocean water curling around my spine and lacing itself between my toes.

"You mean so much to me," I mutter quietly, barely thinking before my tongue is forming each syllable.

He kisses me again, and any other answer wouldn't be as sufficient. I never thought I'd have someone like this and even when I stated dating Louis I didn't think it would be _this_ good. I knew I liked him more than I should, and before I thought that was unhealthy until he showed me new and happier ways to look at the world. He's doing a lot more for me than I expected, but even if he didn't and we sat locked up in his bedroom for hours, I'm sure I'd go home at the end of the day with a stomach aching from laughter and a mouth permanently moulded into a smile.


	47. Chapter 47

 

Songs for this chapter:

[I'm Yours - The Script](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7ss2D_OYqk)

[Better Man - James Morrison](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YmO6ho6evKM)

[To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkP6Tf79UrM)

[If I Could Fly - One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0FsgAVKcek)

 

I hear footsteps coming upstairs quickly and I pull on my top before the person up here, but my door handle jiggles. Then, there's a tapping of impatient knuckles on the wood and I frown, wondering who it is this early in the morning while I walk to open the door. When arms are thrown around my shoulders and I stumble back, I should have clued in earlier that it wouldn't be anyone else but Louis doing these things. I try to embrace his body so I don't hit the ground, but I still trip and he has to catch me so I don't fall over.

"Oops," I laugh and he grins up at me, keeping me anchored.

"Hi," He says, and I can't hide my smile at the cheesy two lines.

He kisses me and I slide my hand around my waist, welcoming the intimate greeting that we won't get enough of today. My palm presses into every curve of his body and I hold him tightly, loving all his excitement.

"Happy _official_ birthday," he says.

He pulls back and holds something out in his hands, and I look down to see a bag with tissue paper sticking out. I remember that he can't wrap presents himself and I wish he tried so I can see how awful it really is. I'd tease him for it for sure, but it's always funny to see him roll his eyes and laugh with me.

"More gifts?" I ask and he nods contently.

"I told you I'm spoiling you," he reminds me.

I roll my eyes and sit on the edge of my bed to open the gift, praying it isn't anything too extravagant. The books were more than enough, just like the dinner he made for me and like all the other things he's done before my birthday. I remove the deep blue tissue paper and reach inside the bag, my fingers wrapping around something soft and firm. I pull out a wrapped journal, bound in russet leather that has cracks reminding me of roadmaps. It's smooth and my fingers graze along the tops of the white pages that will soon be tattooed in ink similar to Louis' skin. I grin there's still a small weight to the bag, so I pick up the last object - a sleek black and gold ballpoint pen with a signature engraved on the side. The two things make me desperate to paint words on each of the blank pages.

"It's so you can write your erotic novels without password protection, then I can get an easier look." He says.

I stand up from my bed and bring him in for another hug, not hesitating to kiss him. He's much more comfortable with the boyfriend stuff than I thought he would be, and he's warming up to being happy with himself the more I see him.

"Thank you," I say, losing track of how much I've said this in the past twenty four hours.

"I have three more things for you, so you might as well wait to thank me at the end of the day." He points out and I sigh deeply.

"I said you didn't have to get me lots."

"And I said I would get you lots anyway." He shrugs, kissing me through our smiles. "So it's too late and I refuse to take any gifts back." He says, not the least bit guilty. "Now finish dressing and I'll take you to school today." He suggests and I raise my eyebrows.

"Are you my chauffeur?" I joke, grabbing my jacket and tie from my closet.

"Today, I'll be whatever you need me to be." He agrees, and I grin as I stand in front of my mirror, fixing the tie around my neck.

"I don't need you to be anything." I chuckle, and he stands by me while I get ready, watching our bodies through the reflective glass.

"Well I need you to want me so you haven't got a choice." He says, sliding his hand around my waist as he pushes himself on his toes to kiss me.

We're the common idea of a teenage relationship - full of impulsivity that keeps our blood flowing. We don't bother to think of what we might be doing wrong, only reminding ourselves how good it feels to have this. We kiss each other whenever we're given the chance and have our arms around each other when no one is looking and think every distance between us is always too big. We think deeply and fall too hard with the hope that we don't shatter as we land.

"I'm hungry, do I have time to eat?" I wonder and he looks at he clock on his mobile.

"Lots of time. I think your mum has made some stuff downstairs. It smelled nice when I came in." He says, keeping his hands in the small of my back.

"She's still here?" I wonder. She'd usually be out for work an hour ago.

"Mhmm," he says. "And your dad."

He looks up at me in a way that screams  _kiss me_ , and I think it would be harder to keep our mouths apart if we were the same height. The few inches hold all my willpower, so I can't complain too much or I might not be able to handle myself when we're around others.

"And you just walked in? What did she say?" I chuckle and he shrugs.

"She said hi. She looked happy," he tells me.

"Yeah, I think she makes it obvious that I've never really had friends over for my birthday - especially first thing in the morning." I say, wondering how embarrassingly excited she was to see Louis. "I've never actually had friends before, so I'm not surprised."

He smiles up at me and I bend down, giving into his soft lips that don't stop smiling. I won't use any of my willpower right now. It's not like anyone is watching, but as soon as we go downstairs we won't be able to do any of this stuff.

"You've never had a boyfriend either. She probably thinks I'm obsessed with you." He chuckles, sliding his hands up to my neck to kiss me slower and deeper.

"You _are_ obsessed with me," I tease, and he scoffs before continuing the lengthened kiss.

"I doubt you mind," He replies, and I don't reply so our intimacy isn't interrupted.

His taste is laced with mint and I hold him close enough that there isn't room for space between our bodies. I think he's the best birthday gift out of all the things he's gotten me and I'd give everything to stay home with him for the day.

"I'm never going to get breakfast if you keep doing this," I say, but don't put any effort into stopping him.

"You want me to stop?" He teases, embedding his fingers in my hair.

"Yes and no," I say breathlessly, gripping his waist. My hands fit into his every curve and I wish we had nowhere to be.

I hear my mum calling our names and we're forced away from each other, but I don't let him move too far. We can take our time going downstairs, but it still won't be enough.

"How long do you think we have until she comes up for us?" He wonders, his hands still cradling the back of my head.

"Not long," I say, pouting because I know she's impatient when it comes to Louis and she probably wants to see the both of us before getting to work. She'll gush and thank him for coming over if she hasn't already done so, embarrassing me further than she already does.

"Well the food downstairs smelled lovely so I wouldn't mind having some."

"Fine," I sigh and he laughs, pulling me towards the door.

He keeps his hand around my waist while we walk downstairs, only letting go when my mum and dad are in view. I don't like being away from him, already missing the warmth of his touch when my parents wish me happy birthday with a plate of waffles. They let me know about everything that's happening tonight, after smiling at Louis and I and of course, thanking him for coming here and celebrating my birthday with me. Once they're gone, Louis attaches himself to me again and showers me in syrupy kisses before we leave to school, holding my hand and barely keeping his eyes on the road.

It's difficult to keep away from him at school and let him be with Amanda and all his friends, watching his eyes drain of life as she talks to him about things he doesn't care about. I want to be able to be with him and make him smile every time I see him, but I know I can't. We stay at a friendly distance from each other until noon when we're able to sneak away because we're both too needy and he says he has to give me another gift. We walk into the halls and head to his locker, our hands brushing together magnetically, our bodies drifting closer unintentionally.

We're tucked away from the security cameras when he makes me turn around, listening to him dig in his bag.

"Okay, it's ready," he says and I face him again, looking down at a small black box in his hands.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, suddenly panicking even if I know the gift can't be what I think it is.

"I'm not purposing, even if I know how much you want that." He jokes, and I let out a breath.

He opens it and there's a ring in it, so part of me doesn't believe him. It's not a diamond ring or a wedding band, but it's still a ring and I don't know whether to laugh or be concerned.

"You're sure this isn't a proposal?" I laugh. "I know I'm great and everything-"

"Sod off, we've barely been together a month." He rolls his eyes, handing me the box. "Turquoise is my birthstone and I thought it was a super cute couple-ish thing to do."

I'm relieved even if most of me expected it to just be a gift, smiling when he takes out the piece of jewellery and slides it on my finger.

"This is super cliché and extremely cheesy," I point out and he shrugs, kissing my finger.

"So?" He says, putting the empty box back into his bag. "At least I didn't get a matching one or something - be glad."

I hesitate in hugging him, looking down the halls, but before I've completed my search he's got arms around me before I do.

"Friends can hug each other," he speaks with a smile on his face, but something about the words make me ache.

Still, I keep my arms around him and soak up his calming oceans for as long as I can. I don't ever want to take these moments for granted, because I know they'll never last as long as I want them to.

"I didn't get you this many gifts for your birthday." I point out when we finally pull away, and he rolls his eyes as we walk back to the cafeteria.

"We weren't dating when it was my birthday. You'll just have to top all these gifts in a few months." He shrugs, resting his head on my shoulder.

It's strange to hear him say _in a few months_ , because his birthday is farther than a few months away. He still sees us together at the end of the year and I think it's these simple things that give me hope he won't leave me. I need him to say things like that or I'd keep questioning how long he plans on staying with me. I'm too nervous to ask the questions, so he's going to

"Fine by me." I smile while we slowly walk, savouring the short few minutes we have before someone finds us.

I don't like being away from him for the next few hours, and Amanda is obsessed with Louis today so I barely get a chance to talk to him. She's happy despite Louis' distance, and I think she's happy as long as other people see them together. She doesn't seem to get angry when other people are around, but I'm kind of glad for Louis' sake.

She gets to his locker the same time I do at the end of the day, and I almost think about turning around but I'm supposed to be hanging out with Louis until we got to my family's party, and he already made eye contact with me so I have to deal with her for now. She's smiling at Louis while he keeps looking at me, but when she asks him if she wants to go hers, my heart sinks as I expect a yes, but then I think about the cheesy ring he got me and what he did for me yesterday and how he said he wouldn't leave me on my birthday, and I pray he says no.

"Uh - I can't," he tells her and I bite the inside of my cheek so I don't smile. "It's Marcel's birthday and I told him I would go to his family dinner thing."

She looks at me and shrugs, less upset than I pictured. I guess she can't be completely rude in front of me anymore, and I thank Louis for that.

"Oh," she replies, giving me the faintest of smiles. "Happy birthday."

That's the last thing I'd expect her to say and even if I can't stand being around her, I still thank her. When she leaves, Louis laughs when he looks at me and we talk about how oblivious she is to our relationship and how oblivious everyone is, surprised no one has genuinely thought we were in a relationship. Louis makes excuses about football when Amanda tries to plan things with him, and he uses Amanda as an excuse when his friends try to make plans with him or his dad is asking where he's going. I thought he'd have to come up with something new, but no one is doubting him so far.

"Did you want to stay at yours or mine until your party thing?" He asks me after school, lifting his bag over his shoulder that still has another gift in it. I have never been so excited at the end of a Monday, let alone on my birthday.

"Yours," I say. My parents are going to be too busy and Louis' place might give us some silence. "But I still need to get dressed at my place later on. I don't think my mum would appreciate it if I showed up in my uniform."

He smiles as we walk out into the brisk, still air. Frost licks it's way up the pavement and along the street lamps in the car park, and by the time we get into his car I'm stiff with goosebumps raising on my forearms and thighs. He starts the vehicle and turns the heat up before letting out a long sigh.

"So do you want your gift now or later?" He asks and I laugh, shrugging.

"Now," I quickly decide, just in case he was expecting me to open it in front of other people. "This is the last one?"

He scoffs and shakes his head, pulling another gift bag out of his rucksack.

"Of course not," he says and I raise my eyebrows at him. I never expected friends or boyfriends to spend this much time and money on me.

"Five gifts is extremely unnecessary," I announce, still taking the bag from him.

" _You deserve the world, baby,_ " he speaks with a mischievous smile on his face, lowering his voice to try and be serious. I know he's joking, but I smile and blush like he isn't. "Hmm, do you like it when I call you that?" He teases and I tilt my head back laughing, but don't answer the question. "It suits you."

"How does it _suit_ me?" I wonder, my face embarrassingly red.

He shrugs with a smile, beginning to pull out of the lot.

"It just does," he states, reaching over to hold my hand. "Now open your gift, _babe_."

We both look at each other, wrinkling our noses.

"Maybe I shouldn't say it like that." He admits, and I agree before taking the tissue paper out of the gift bag. I definitely won't mind him saying it again though.

I reach inside and pull out something soft and pink, more confused than I've been in a while until I unravel the spotted blanket and laugh, looking at him for an explanation.

"So maybe I didn't get us matching rings, but I got matching blankets." He tells me. "I have the blue one at home and before you think it stupid - it's the softest damn thing you'll ever feel."

"You got us couples blankets?" I wonder, in a state of adoration even if I want to tease him about it.

"I did." He nods, biting his lip through his grin.

"And why pink?" I ask, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Because of all those equality talks we've had about accepting others and things like you want people to accept you and how pink shouldn't be feminine and all that-"

"Say 'shit' and we'll be having another one of those talks." I say and he laughs, shaking his head.

" _Stuff,_ " he concludes. "And all that stuff."

I nod in approval and lean over to kiss his cheek, just as we pull up to his house.

We've talked about those things only a few times before, because I know that even if Louis is accepting of gay people he's been judgemental towards others and I don't want him to be hypocritical of people with so many similarities.

"It's a lovely blanket," I tell him and he presses his mouth to mine with smiles. "These two birthdays have already been the best I've had."

He laughs as we get out, quickly getting inside out of the cold air. The sides of our bodies are pushed together fro warmth as we walk to the house, and when his front door is opened, there's a loud yelling that echoes through all the rooms. Louis' father's voice is full of an anger that I've seen expressed on his face many times before, silently and out loud. Even if I've never heard him yell like this, it feels familiar. I don't understand what he's talking about, but Louis slams the door behind us without looking at me.

The noise stops, the room still and cold.

"Sorry," Louis mumbles, eyes still removed from me.

I don't know what to say, embarrassed for both of us when footsteps come closer and Louis freezes.

hHs father comes in to view and says, "You're home," but theres no warmth in the tone. It's a deep voice - unsettling - and makes my muscles tense.

"Yeah - uh - Marcel and I are going to stay here for a bit until we have to go to his dinner." Louis explains. He's never made this little eye contact before.

"You didn't go to football today?" He asks, and Louis shakes his head slowly.

"It was cancelled. Practice is tomorrow," Louis tells him. He makes me want to hold his hand and soften his nerves, but I can't do that without making the situation worse. "Coach had meetings or something."

His father nods, but still looks disapproving of Louis' answer.

"You still should have gone to the gym for a bit - you wouldn't want to ruin your schedule." He speaks like he's been pre-programmed to say every word, gears and chains working around inside him, constantly manufacturing ways to make his own son fear him. Then Louis answers like he doesn't know if the machine is going to explode.

"I'm at the gym Wednesday," he replies, and Troy nods.

We walk upstairs after that - quietly and quickly. There's a safe distance between us that I can't stand, and when his bedroom door is shut and locked, Louis looks like he can finally breathe. His shoulders drop and his arms and legs can move without any restraints. We're oddly quiet when I sit next to him, and I don't know how I should talk to him. I don't think he wants to talk, so I let his words come first. I know if I said anything, we might go down a wrong path.

"He yells a lot when work is stressful, and this is obviously the worst time I could possibly bring you here." He laughs it off like he's never experienced intimidation.

"It's okay," I tell him, smiling when I hold his hand again.

He quickly changes the subject and we eventually have to turn on music because the yelling gets loud again, but it's easy to ignore when our lips are intensely attached for hours. Lots of things are easy to ignore when we're like that. The one thing I can't seem to ignore is my stomach aching with hunger by the time we have to leave. I'm impatiently waiting for Louis to get dressed, wondering if my stomach will shrink to accommodate the painful hunger. He then drives us to my house after picking apart his outfit that I think looks amazing, where my mum and dad's cars are still parked.

Without a doubt, they'll be earlier than me to greet and let everyone inside.

"Hi, we're just leaving now," my mum says as soon as we're inside, giving my shoulders a squeeze. She's smiling brightly and I nod, watching her throw a jacket over her shoulders and put keys in her handbag.

"I'll just get dressed and meet you there." I tell her and she nods, slipping into a pair of shoes.

"Your day was good?" She wonders.

I look to Louis and feel his fingers brushing against my wrist. I try not to smile too big.

"Yeah, it was," I tell her and she grins.

"Well I'll see you soon then? Please try not to be late. Everyone is going to be there soon."

I nod and assure her I'll be there, but with Louis around I'll most likely be late.

We jog upstairs and I try to pull my suit on, Louis pestering me about not allowing him to see me half naked while I do so. I'm still not comfortable enough with myself to do that, even if I wish I was. It takes ages to do my tie, as Louis blocks the mirror when I try to fix it and kisses me incessantly, making it nearly impossible. I've re-done it about twenty times when it finally decides to look right, then we're rushing out the door because we'll be late if we keep waiting around.

We take the same vehicle again, and the closer we get the more my heart thuds in my chest. There's so many vehicles outside of the hotel, all my family members coming in from their hometowns just to celebrate my adulthood. My stomach flips in circles even as Louis holds my hand, and I think this will be the worst of it all. After I can be alone with Louis again, but right now I can only picture all their faces singing me the longest song of Happy Birthday, so I'd rather go back to last night and sit at a table for two.

"I don't want to go inside," I pout as he parks his car, leaning over the console.

"Your parents will be angry with you." He disapproves, but still doesn't leave. He moves himself closer to me and kisses me with a passion too large to resist.

Our tongues find their way to each other and he tastes so good I don't want him to stop. This is partly because kissing means less time inside, so I hold him in his place so he can't leave. My palms cup his jaw and try to force myself closer so he can kiss me rougher, more intense. His hands are placed on my hips and my head starts spinning, thoughts diving through images of him. He comes in flashes of waves and beaches and sunsets and warmth and i don't want any of it to go away.

"We can't be late..." He tells me and I groan, still trying to kiss him.

"A few more minutes?" I ask, hoping I'm enough of a distraction to procrastinate this.

"You need to..." He trails off and I grin, trying to move my lips more smooth. Being alone is something neither of us can resits, and I'm glad it's enough of a distraction that we're still not going inside. He runs his hands up to my chest, a small noise leaving his mouth.

"Marce," he breathes, trying to stop me with weak effort, so I bring myself closer and let him laugh into my mouth. " _Babe,_ " he says through quiet chuckles.

I laugh with him, pulling back a few inches because I won't be able to do much while he calls me that.

"That's still going to be weird," I say, leaning back in the seat.

"It got you moving. We need to get inside."

I sigh and open my door, my head still light from his mouth.

"Did you ever call Amanda that?" I wonder, looking around the empty lot before I hold his hand.

I still stand close to him in case there are people I don't see.

"When we first started dating I did, but then I stopped." He tells me, shrugging his shoulders. "I think it'll grow on you, though."

"What if you slip up and call me 'babe' in front of your dad?" I joke and he laughs, opening the lobby door for me.

"It would be an 'off with your head' situation." He says, standing in front of the door of the party and I sigh.

"Are you ready?" He asks, his hand on the door knob.

My heart unnecessarily races and I don't want to go in there and have to talk to all those people and lie to them about enjoying school and telling them I can't wait to go to med school and tell them Louis is just my friend. It's all too much and I can't stand dealing with it year after year. It's going to be worse now that I'm going off to school and so many people are going to be asking me about the future I'm not even sure of. All I know is that I want to make people happy, but that doesn't always make me happy, and I can't always say that out loud.

"No," I try to laugh it off, but he notices how serious I am.

"Why?" He asks.

"I'm nervous," I admit, still trying to keep up my smile as I look to my feet. "I don't want to talk to all those people."

He sighs and I wish he could still hold my hand because he'd be running his thumb across my knuckles right now and comforting me in the best ways he knows how.

"If I could, I'd bring us back outside and drive us home." He tells me. "But I can't so I'll stay with you the whole time and try to get you away from them as much as possible. I'm the best at distractions anyway."

I smile and nod, forever thankful that I have him in my life. If I never told him about my birthday, he wouldn't be here and I'd probably still have the need to runt o the toilet and vomit.

"Thank you," I say and he nods, still smiling.

"Let's go."

Two seconds after the door is opened, there is an entire crowd of people singing to me. I'm immediately blushing and doing my very best to smile, but it's hard to breathe and I don't know who to look at other than Louis but I can't look at him the whole time. I try to calm myself but by the time the song is finished I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable. There's a large cake pushed in front of me with _Happy 18th Birthday_  written on it, and everyone is clapping but I don't know what to say or do other than keep forcing a smile. Then soon after that, people are coming up to me with uncomfortable hugs and touching I don't give consent to and things are moving too quickly that I don't even have time to process everything. I'm stuttering over my words and I don't know where Louis went so that only makes it worse, especially when I think there's only one more person to talk to and another comes up to say hi and ask questions.

I feel a familiar and relaxing hand on my shoulder and happily turn to see Louis' beaming smile. I think I'd need to leave the room if he weren't here and be alone for a long time in order to convince myself to stay here.

"Sorry to interrupt - your mum wanted me to come get you to talk for a moment." He says, and my aunt smiles at him.

"I don't believe we've met before," she says to him. "I'm Pamela."

He shakes her hand with a gentlemanlike politeness, his other hand is still on my shoulder as I let myself think calmly and relax my muscles.

"I'm Louis Tomlinson," he replies, still smiling kindly before looking back up to me. He's already making a good impression and I'm glad.

"I'll come back to talk in a bit, alright?" I ask her and she nods.

"Of course," she agrees and I exhale deeply as soon as we're away from her.

The distance feels almost too good, and being beside Louis is even better. Other years there were still a lot of people, but never this many. I guess this is a big birthday to celebrate, but that doesn't mean it has to be a big celebration. I would have been happy with a couple of close family members showing up at my house for dinner or going out to a nice restaurant and bringing Louis with me, but there's so many people here that I don't have time to think about what I'm going to do or say because as soon as I take a breath they're asking me more questions.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this for." I whisper under my breath so only Louis can hear.

"Break time?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. As much as that's tempting, I have my mind on 

"I thought my mum-" I look around to see her talking to someone else with a small plate of cake.

"It was an excuse. You looked like you were about to have a breakdown." He chuckles, leading me to a door on the side of the room.

It's the kitchen that we were in what seems like years ago, when we sat at the back table alone and ate food and talked like we didn't care who saw or heard, mostly because there was barely anyone around us. Louis waves to a few of the workers, the familiar chef noticing me and saying hello too. We walk through another set of doors and we're in the toilet, devoid of any other people.

He makes sure to lock the door, and as soon as he turns towards me we impulsively kiss, no words needed. It lasts for so long I'm surprised no one comes looking for us, but glad they don't. I need some time to forget everything but Louis and let him lift all the weight off my shoulders. He's the only person able to do this and part of me is scared I won't know how to be alone of he ever leaves. I don't want to think of him leaving so I keep kissing him and holding his body against me so his edges fit against me like we're meant to do this for the rest of our lives.

We have to force ourselves back to the miserable party, where people are handing me cards of money I don't need and gifts I probably won't use and people I hardy even know. My parents get me a first edition novel and a stethoscope that my grandfather was given when he finished medical school, which was supposed to be my graduation gift. I thank them with honest joy, but now there's pressure to be a doctor more than there ever. Relatives that didn't know now before have something to ask me about now and I have to pretend I'm not going to hate it.

Louis pouts about them getting me a book that he thought was better than his, but I assure him that I like his much better, because I do. I'd rather get books that I can read over and over than ones I'm afraid to touch.

When everything is dying down and I've said goodbye to most of the guests, Louis takes me home again before my parents get there. I roll down the window and hold his hand and the fresh air reminds me of kissing him earlier so I breathe it in before I have to go inside again. I don't care if the air is cool because Louis is warm and he stayed with me the whole time without wondering why I'd be so nervous around my family. Things like this make me wonder if I can tell him about my anxiety, but I know I still shouldn't.

He comes inside to give me my last present, walking up to my bedroom while he locks the door. His lips are on mine before I get the chance to say anything, and I smile against his mouth.

"Are kisses my gift?" I ask, keeping my hands on him so he doesn't move away.

"Partly," he chuckles, bringing me over to sit on my bed. His hands are just below my jaw and he runs his fingers through my hair, tongue pressing against and forcing our bodies closely together.   "I can't get enough of you..." He mumbles, running his thumbs back and forth over my jawline. "I don't know how I was the first one to kiss you."

My stomach is filled with cliché, fairytale butterflies when I think of how good it was to have someone close to me like that and holding me like that the first time. It's the most intimate I've ever been with someone, even if he did run away after. I'm still glad it happened because we're here and he isn't leaving me yet.

"I'm glad you're the only one." I say and he smiles, not pulling away. I start to think that we might not stop kissing and maybe e'll keep getting close rand maybe his gift involves taking off our clothes, so my heart beats faster than usual and I don't think it's in a good way. I don't think I'm ready for that and I think it might be too soon even if I've wanted it to happen before, but soon he pulls away and he's not trying to get back to the way we were.

"I'd love to keep kissing you but I don't want your parents knocking on the door because I've been up here so long." He chuckles and slides himself off my bed, reaching underneath it to pull out a thin black box.

I'm relieved, and slightly disappointed.

"It was under my bed?" I question and he laughs, nodding.

"It's been there since I found out about your birthday. I thought you would have saw it by now." He comments, taking the lid off and handing it to me.

I'm smiling wide when my fingers tuck under the long gleaming chain, pulling it up and resting it in my palm to look at the lustrous charm between my fingers. It's a silver paper airplane the size of a coin, shiny and smooth on my pale skin. I don't ever remember Louis talking about airplanes or anything that has to do with this, but it's simple and elegant and long enough to tuck under my shirt when other people are around so no one asks about it.

"This was the first thing I bought for you and I found it pretty quickly but it's the most special out of everything else." He turns his body towards me more, a sunshine smile on his face. He lights up the whole room. "Paper airplanes take a while to build right and sometimes you have to start over and there's wrinkles in the paper, but when you start to get it right, it can fly and too many people seem to be fascinated by seeing something so simple. It still tends fall and you have to pick it up again to see the beauty, but it's always worth it."

I smile and try not to say I'm falling in love with him. It's too soon and too unrealistic and I've never loved anyone before. For all I know, I'm infatuated with the idea of him still. I want to say it and I want him to love me too but even if I wanted to tell him, my throat is dry and I wouldn't know how to do it.

So I'm glad he keeps talking.

"We're a paper airplane," he tells me, resting his head on my shoulder as he touches the object in my hands. "We're rocky and wrinkly, but we're starting to get it right." When kisses me and I don't think I've been happier. "And when we fly, I promise we're going to be beautiful and find our way home."

He takes the necklace and drapes it around my neck, pressing a kiss to the charm that I vow I'll never take off my body as long as he's with me. I hug him and force away thoughts of adolescent, impulsive love. The airplane is squished between us and I can feel it pressing against my chest, above my heart where it should be.

"Thank you so much." I decide to tell him the next closest thing to love. "I don't want to be without you."

He's happy when he kisses me again, but I wish I could tell him the only place I'd be flying back to is him. I'd fly back home.


	48. Chapter 48

Songs for this chapter:

 [All I Want - Dawn Golden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwyzdWVDGZ4)

[Echo - Jason Walker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxpLxb5jHO0)

 

Marcel's POV

I had an interview with the hospital in town two days ago and I was throwing up so much sometimes I didn't think I'd be able to get to the toilet bowl. My mum insisted on scheduling it for another day when she thought I was ill, but no matter what day we did I my head will be sick with thoughts that insists I can never do it. I hated it but I ended up going, and afterwards I was convinced it went so awful that I had anther anxiety attack and couldn't do anything but feel like shit for hours and wish Louis was around. Trying to push the feeling from my chest and stomach left claw marks on my skin and a constant throbbing in my head. If I can't do things like this I'm never going to be able to achieve the things I want. My parents will be stuck with me and I'd never get better.

So I went back to the hospital and took a test then a psychiatrist prescribed me these serotonin pills and tranquilizers.

_Tranquillizers_.

I've never felt so dehumanized.

They say because I'm eighteen I'll be able to pay for them myself and my parents don't need to know about it. Even after they heavily suggested I tell someone, I stubbornly insisted I couldn't. I don't think any of them would treat me the same or even look at me the same, and people already look at me like I'm a freak enough of the time. I don't know why a therapist would look at me in disgust, but I picture them doing it anyway.

Louis was at a football tournament all weekend, busy with his team members so much I went to watch him play once. I sat alone in the stands, which was strange, but he came over to talk to me once and it didn't feel so bad after. I never watched him before, but I knew everyone talked about him being amazing and that had to mean something, but amazing didn't even begin to explain him. I envied how skilled he is and how comfortable he looks playing, especially compared to his other team members. People who couldn't understand how the game works can look at Louis and know that he shouldn't be doing anything else. It makes me understand why he wants the scholarship so badly and why he wants to make it onto the university's team. He wouldn't be happy with some other job. I can see him winning World Cups and being on the telly and thousands of people cheering for him to play.

Watching him was enough of a distraction from the anxiety that consumed me, so if he ever decides he doesn't want to be with me, I'll be helpless in figuring out how to breathe properly. I forget how I did it before and I'll have to learn it all over again. I should't have let myself get too dependent on him, but it's too late and now I'm trying to be with him every chance I get so I can finally feel better. Now, I just pray that doesn't go away.

We have a graduation meeting today to talk about more fundraisers and after deciding to start taking my pills tomorrow, I hope Louis shows up to make the day better. I've already been walking around with a heavy heart that beats against my ribcage as if it dares to break my bones. It makes me wonder if that would hurt less than this suffering.

I see Louis sitting with all his friends, including most of his teammates and Amanda, but he still lights up when he sees me, waving me over to sit next to him. I don't hesitate like I used to, since his friends haven't been saying much lately. I would still rather sit with just Louis, but this is better than sitting alone.

"We won the tournament," Louis says, turning his body away from Amanda to talk to me.

I smile and picture the day I can hug him after things like this.

"That's great," I say, genuinely proud of him. I wish I was good at something like that, and just from watching the one game I know if he pursues football he won't have any problems. "You did so well. I was honestly blown away with how good you were."

He scoffs then lowers his voice. "I'm already into you, you don't need to flatter me." He whispers, winking at me.

I roll my eyes, but still blush when I face the front of the room so he doesn't see.

"You know you're good," I say, folding my arms over my chest. "I guess I shouldn't inflate that big head of yours."

"Oh no, you can," he insists, a cocky smirk on his face. "I don't mind at all."

I laugh as Mrs. Wallace walks in, her pointy heels clicking on the flooring with every step.

"Today's meeting will hopefully be short," she begins, scanning the crowd without any excitement or liveliness. Her eyes are a little more cold than when I saw her last and I wonder who it is in the room that's pissed her off today. "We will begin to sell the Valentine-O-Grams this week so we're going to need people to sell them this week, and hand them out on Friday."

She's has two clipboards in her hands, beginning to pass them out to the first row of people.

"Sign your name if you're willing to sell them at lunch hour this week and state which day you would prefer, but keep in mind that we only need two or three people each day for the next four days."

Everyone else seems to know what they're doing but me and I lean over and tap Louis on the shoulder.

"What the hell are Valentine-O-Grams?" I ask and he chuckles.

"We didn't do them last year, but students and teachers buy roses we hand them out on Valentine's Day." He explains and I nod, starting to follow along.

"The next clipboard going around is for those who would like to hand them out. It is your choice if you would like to dress up or not, and we only require a maximum of ten students." Mrs. Wallace continues, just as all of Louis' friends sign up, filling up each space. I raise my eyebrow at Louis, not used to their sudden need to volunteer for things like this unless they are forced to.

"We usually do this every year, it's the one time the dress code is a little more relaxed." He tells me, writing his name down on the tenth spot needed.

"So are you planning on walking around school in g-strings or what?" I chuckle, as the clipboard is taken away from Louis.

He raises and eyebrows at me and grins again, saying, "Only if you want me to," and I laugh, turning red at the permanent image in my head.

"I feel like you'd do it even if I didn't want you to," I comment and he shrugs, nodding.

"Maybe if I was paid. I'm sure all the teachers would fucking cry or something." He chuckles, looking up every now and then to make it seem like he's paying attention. "If they knew about my homosexual tendencies they'd blame it on that before bathing me in holy water."

I cover my mouth so my laughter is muffled. Still, Mrs. Wallace shoots me a glare and I have to bite my cheeks until they throb so I'll stop.

"You're an awful human being." I whisper to him and he smiles, nodding in agreement.

"So I've heard."

We get let off for lunch, all the graduates piling out of the room in large clusters that barely fit through the doorway.

We all immediately make our way to the cafeteria, hunger clawing at our stomachs for the excessively fancy food they provide us with. Louis gets me sitting with his friends again, which I'm still not used to. The only one I think doesn't hate me is Ian, as he makes an effort to talk to me, even if it's only when Louis brings me into a conversation.

"Did I tell you Robin was talking about my tattoos on your birthday?" Louis asks me and I cringe, already wondering what embarrassing things he's said about the ink drawings.

"Oh God," I grumble, wrinkling my nose. "How embarrassed am I about to be?"

He laughs and shrugs, taking a bite of his pasta. "He said he wishes he could get a few." He tells me and I'm convinced I'd never go anywhere with him if he ever gets tattoos like the ones Louis has. "But your mum won't let him or something."

"I'm sorry you had to listen to everything he said." I apologize with a grin on my face, only imagining what he could have said to bond with Louis.

"What? You don't like tattoos?" He asks me and I shake my head because I love them, especially when they're on him.

"I like tattoos - but if my dad ever got ones like you have I might have to remove them myself." I chuckle, pushing around the pasta on my plate.

I can feel his fingers fiddling with the seam of my trousers, his thumb slowly running across my thigh in a small area that mesmerizes me. No one can see, but I think Louis takes notice of his actions when my face starts to turn pink and I find it hard to find the right words. He still doesn't stop and I hope he won't. This is the only bit of intimacy we get with other people around, and even then we're still making sure they can't see. Still, we're laughing louder than probably necessary and I make the poor decision to look at everyone else, which causes our joyful noises to stop.

Sam glares at me, then looks at Louis like he's never seen something more disgusting. It makes my stomach churn.

"What?" Louis asks, doing his best to pretend like he doesn't care what Sam is think, but his fingers are already removed from my leg.

"You sure you're not getting married?" Sam asks, and Louis rolls his eyes, putting his elbow on the table to leaning against it.

I haven't felt this uncomfortable in a while, everyone staring between Louis and I like they know everything. They have to have an idea, we aren't being as secretive as we should be and they already hate me enough, so they're going to hate that Louis enjoys being around me.

"Piss off, are we not allowed to talk?" Louis speaks in a light tone, but Sam's expression doesn't change so Louis' will get cool sooner than I'd like.

"That's not talking, I don't think I've seen anyone flirt more than you guys do, mate." Sam says, shaking his head with disapproval. "It's fucked up - but whatever."

Louis eyebrows furrow together and he sits straighter, his shoulders back. "We're friends. That's not fucked up,

My heart starts pumping uncomfortably, blooding filling my veins so much I think they may burst. I can hear the pulsing in my ears - so loud it _hurts_.

"Friends don't do shit like that," Sam denies, and my knee starts bouncing as I chew on my bottom lip.

I don't know what to say so I stay quiet, looking between Sam and Louis nervously. I want to tell them something to get them to stop but anything I say is going to make this worse. I don't want Louis to get mad in case I slip up and Sam is going to make an idiot out of me if I stutter over my words or open my mouth when I don't even know what to tell him.

"Friends don't talk? Or joke around?" Louis questions, frowning deeply and angrily. "You must have pretty shitty friendships."

"Well I'm friends with you..." Sam trails off with an arrogant laughter that makes me want to scream.

"What the fuck has been your problem lately?" Louis asks him, his voice getting louder and louder.

"Louis..." Amanda speaks softly, placing her hand on his arm in a weak attempt to calm him. I wonder if I could do the same thing to actually relax him, but I'm quickly reminded that I'm not allowed. Now that I think of it, I shouldn't even be sitting this close to him.

"You're acting fucking weird lately," Sam tells him. "Everyone knows and it's been since you became friends with this-"

Louis cuts him off before Sam can finish his sentence. I wish Louis didn't stop him so I wouldn't come up with all the shitty thing he might have called me on my own. They're probably worse and make me feel worse than needed.

"How I act doesn't have anything to do with Marcel. You've been pissed at me the day I started hanging out with him because you don't like him." Louis points out. "You don't even have a goddamn reason as to why you don't like him."

"Trust me, there's plenty-"

"You're both being ridiculous about this," Ian jumps in, laughing and trying to lighten their anger, but he only fuels it. "You can't talk about something else?"

"Obviously he has a problem with that." Louis sneers, still glaring at Sam.

"I've got a problem with Marcel, not talking." He fires back and Louis is so tense I'm scared his muscles will turn to stone. I have the desperate need to reach out and touch his hand and tell him it's okay and Sam is just doing this because he doesn't understand it, but I can't and that somehow makes this all worse.

"There's nothing fucking wrong with him," Louis says through gritted teeth, eyes glowering. "If you took time to even pay attention to something other than never being around him before you'd see that it's nice to have him here."

"Louis," I say under my breath, my only attempt to get him to stop.

He looks at me like he didn't say anything. "What? He can't treat you like shit when you haven't done anything to him." Louis tells me, still angry.

"People are going to start staring-"

"They're already staring," Ian sighs. "It's stupid. At least tolerate each other while we're in front of everyone, Jesus Christ."

I let out a deep breath then Sam and Louis stop and everyone else is silent for the rest of lunch hour. At the end of the day, I don't think they've have looked at each other and Louis is so pissed off he barely looks at me. That makes my brain fill with so many things that it pulses against my skull and I keep wishing I didn't sit with them today. My nerves made themselves at home the second Louis stopped talking and I expect him to walk right by me at the end of the day. I think that's what he planned on doing until the guilt got to him and he stopped walking, standing beside me.

"Are you doing anything in a few hours?" He asks, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his jacket like he plans on me being angry with him. "I have football until five, but obviously I'm in a shitty mood and being around Sam won't do me any good."

He still looks cautious, but his eyes are oceans of hope and I won't be able to sleep tonight if I can't feel his water rush by my hips to flood around my legs or run my hands across his surface and feel each ripple. I'm not angry with him, even if I'm worried Sam got to him. When other people start talking about us it makes it hard for him to accept himself and want to be around me, even if he still wants to be with me. He's not yet completely comfortable with the idea of being gay, no matter how much he seems like he is when we're alone. There's still that lingering thought that he knows this might be wrong and people shouldn't even consider him being gay.

"Yeah, sure. Yours or mine?" I ask, even if I know the answer. He'll most likely be wanting a break from his father, even if he isn't in town.

"Yours," he confirms and I nod, glancing around for anyone might make our simple act of talking seem like something more.

"What Sam was saying..." I don't know how my words are about to form, but everything is about to eat me alive. "You're not - I mean, you're okay and everything, right?"

His shoulders drop and his smile becomes a little more genuine. "Yeah, I'll be fine," he assures me. "We'll probably get it sorted at practise and pretend like it didn't happen or something."

He brushed it off like he already wants to pretend it didn't happen but I know he's still worried about what other people are thinking. I'm just not sure if I can do anything to help him.

"And you? You're alright?" Louis wonders, and even if I can't stop thinking about what Sam said about me right in front of me, I nod my head.

_Pills tomorrow. I need to start taking them_.

"I'm good," I say, and he lets out a deep breath, believing the two-word lie.

"I'll see you after five then?"

I nod and he waves while walking away, a smile on his face that doesn't see beneath my skin. I hope it stays that way.

"See you."

I already miss him while he's gone, but I miss him when he talks to me too. He isn't himself when people are looking and can't accept the things other people say about him. He doesn't know how to accept himself either, only pretending that he does behind closed doors. Out of all the difficulties that come with hiding our relationship, this is the thing that I hate the most. I want Louis to love every part of himself and I don't want him to think that the way he feels is wrong. I want him to look in the mirror and see the person I can't get enough of, instead of the person that everyone will hate if they know the truth.

He's in my bedroom at five-thirty after I wonder when and how he will accept himself, showered and smelling like fresh water and the cool air outside. His cologne is stronger than it was at the end of the school day, after it had faded and blended in with all the other people around us. I like how close he is to me now, adoring the thick, musky scent wafting around the room.

"Hi," I say, putting a finger between the pages of one of my books as he flops down beside me. I use my free hand to trace the ridges of his shoulder blades, my fingertips then dipping into his spine. He turns to face me, wrapping his arm around both my legs and holding himself against me with his eyes closed. I don't want to take my hands off him so I brush his damp fringe across his forehead, getting a better look at him at the same time.

I've seen many beautiful people before, but watching him is a new kind of unparalleled I won't get tired of.

"Can I sleep?" He wonders, smiling faintly as he nuzzles his soft face against my thighs.

"Don't come here to be boring," I tease and he hums with amusement, opening his eyes. Each blue iris makes contact with the green behind my glasses and he sits up, still close to me and still breathtaking.

"Fine," he sighs, reaching out for my hand. His head rests against my shoulder and we let ourselves be silent, his thoughts beginning to build their way to words.

"Are you mad at me?" He wonders, keeping his crown in the crook of my neck so we don't have to look at each other, but I want him to look at me.

"No," I answer honestly. I can't say I'm not worried he's convincing himself what we're doing is wrong again, because I'm terrified he's going to believe he can't be with me anymore.

He finally lifts his head, "But I was an arsehole," he reminds me, crossing his legs and holding our hands in his lap.

"You weren't being an arse," I deny, but he rolls his eyes in disagreement.

"I let Sam talk me out of defending what I care about. I wondered if he was right about everything. I actually thought about listening to my dad and I couldn't talk to you for the rest of the day." He lifts a hand to fix the curly hair draping across my forehead. "I was being a piece of shit and you don't deserve shit. I've said that to you that so much, so I don't know how I let myself do it again."

I shake my head, trying to hold back my frown. I don't know if this is the last time he's going to question us, but if it happens over and over again we'll end up on clothing hangers inside our hermetic closet, collecting layers of dust and a stale scent.

"He just got to you, it's fine." I shrug, my fingertips dancing along each ridge of his knuckles and the soft skin around his dainty wrists.

"It shouldn't be fine," he speaks, watching me as I begin to memorise a new part of him. "I shouldn't be questioning that stuff by now and I know I noticed I was treating you badly again, but it shouldn't have happened in the first place."

"Lou," I stop him, beginning to smile so I can convince him and myself that everything is okay. "I forgive you and we're going to be fine. I think I can manage a few hours without you, especially if you needed time to think things through."

"But-"

I clap my hand over his mouth. "No more, " I say, and he sticks his tongue out to coat my palm in an uncomfortable amount of saliva.

"Gross," I say, wiping it on his shirt.

He laughs and squirms away from me, but I still transfer the wet spot onto him. "Why are you grossed out? It's _your_ spit."

"It's still disgusting," he laughs, wrinkling his nose as he looks at the area on his shirt.

"It's a customized shirt now, I'm sure all the fashion photographers would love it," I joke and he raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Speaking of pictures - where's that camera I bought you? I haven't seen you with it once since I got it." He points out, even if I've been using it as much as I can.

He slides himself off the bed and reaches for the handle on the single drawer I have by my bed.

_Pills are in there, everything is in there. He can't see it, I don't want to tell him._

"Not in there." My words come out so fast they're almost incomprehensible, but his hand lingers before recoiling. He looks back at me with an eyebrow raised, but I'm talking too quickly again so he doesn't have time to question it, but even as he moves away from the drawer my heart is still beating against my ribcage and pulsing in my ears. "It's - uh - over there.=," I say, pointing to the cubicles above my desk. In one of them there's my camera, separate from any bottles or blister packages with my name stuck on them.

I'd lose my mind if he found the pills. I can see him thinking I was literally insane, just like anyone would. I'd lose any chance at being with him until the end of school because I know he couldn't handle it. He's surrounded with outgoing people that are naturally funny and into playing sports I'd never have a chance at doing because I'm not good enough. He wouldn't want to be with someone who can barely talk to people without stuttering and has to take pills to act normal for once.

Louis gets up and strides across the room to retrieve the camera, turning it on while he comes back. A set of musical notes are played while the screen shines and he begins looking through the photos I've been taking since he gave the camera to me, but I'm still thinking of the pills in my drawer and trying to find a place I can put them when he leaves. I can't have anyone finding them. Even if my parents knew, they would try to fix me by making it worse. I'll probably shove them under my clothes. No one looks there.

"You took all these?" He wonders, still flipping through them all. "I know you won't believe me, but the honestly look professional."

"I don't believe you," I confirm, a smirk as he laughs, positioning himself back beside me.

"I'm serious," he insists, looking up at me. "Did you ever do like photography classes or something?"

I shake my head ad say, "I've only read things and I like photography-"

I'm still talking when he holds the camera up to my face, dangerously close. I immediately cover the lens with my hand so even if he tried taking a picture he wouldn't get anything.

"Absolutely not," I deny, and he grins, trying to get it away from me.

"Why not?" He complains, still trying to hold it in front of me. "You need to have your picture taken. You're gorgeous." My face involuntarily distorts and he rolls his eyes. "You never let me compliment you," he says, putting the camera in his lap. "Can I at least take a picture of the both of us?"

There's a long pause and I hate having my picture taken, even if it's for school. I can easily pick out all the flaws, but Louis looks happy and I don't think I have a picture of us together so I sigh, nodding.

"Just one," I agree, and he looks like a giddy child as he sits directly beside me, almost on top of me.

He holds the large camera in front of us and I tease him about the terrible angle before he hushes me and says _smile_. The photo is taken and a small clicking noise is made before Louis brings it back down and and I look at it, my eyes already focusing on Louis' bright smile. I could never look like he does, a dim light compared to his sunrise but he still kisses me and says I'm the most beautiful person he's seen.

I don't know if there will be a day I believe him.

Ill thoughts quickly return to me while Louis tries taking pictures of my bookshelf and my desk and the piece of paper on the floor.

While he does it I try to smile and keep talking to him but I'm thinking of the pills I should be taking and all the interviews I still have to go through and I think of ten years of school just to do something I won't enjoy. I think of how suffocating it is that doctors are the only ones who know and that I never plan on telling Louis.

The person I'm falling in love with has crinkles by his eyes when he laughs and smiles, my camera in hand while he throws ripped paper in the air, calling them "snowflakes" while the flash goes off.

I don't want him to know and of the rest of the time we're together, I'll always be scared of him finding out. I'll be scared of never giving him the chance to love me or anyone to love me because they didn't know about it before and they realize they can't deal with something so fucked up.

I'm scared of so much that I've taught myself why I don't need to be happy, because there can't possibly be enough good in the world to surpass everything going wrong.


	49. Chapter 49

Songs for this chapter:

[Shine - Years & Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXTAn4ELEwM)

[Running - James Bay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sdy41464vU)

 

I stare at the glass of water and the single pill for so long that I don't to want to take it. I don't want to be so ill that I have to take medication and I don't to rely on medication to be normal, but I know I have to if I want to be happy again, so I pick up the small capsule of normality and tell myself the doctor obviously knows what he's doing and he wouldn't be giving me something that would make absolutely everything go wrong. I'm taking it so it helps me. I'm taking it so I get better and I don't have to panic when more than one person look at me at the same time.

_I'm going to be fine_.

I force it into my mouth and down it with water, wincing while it slides down my throat. I keep drinking the water, like the lump in my throat is the pill. When the glass is empty the swollen feeling is still there and I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall. I know I can't take it back but I wish I could. I want to get better on my own. I don't want to need so much just to be able to talk in front of people and it makes me want to stick my fingers down my throat before the pill completely digests but I sit there another minute too long until I convince myself it's already kicking in and it's going to make today better. I know the pills aren't supposed to work for another few weeks, but thinking they'll start doing something can't make it worse. I go to school and the first smiling face is at lunch. After thinking of all the side effects that could go on during the day, Louis is the only one who can make my mood better.

"How are you?" He asks, and as we walk into the cafeteria our bodies are practically glued together as I try to stay close to him.

"Good," I say, being as honest as I can.

"I'm meeting with the scouts from uni today." He tells me and I raise my eyebrows, thankful for the distraction.

"Really? When?" I ask.

"After school. I'm meeting them at some restaurant to talk about everything." He says. He looks excited, but his nerves overpower most of it.

"And how scared are you?" I ask with a smirk as we make our way to his table.

"I'll try not to shit my pants," he jokes, sitting down with a playful grin.

"You talking to those people from school today?" Sam asks and before I think Louis might be distant or cold towards him, he talks like nothing ever happened.

"Yeah, I'm meeting them after school." He explains. "I think there's two of them."

Sam nods and pretends I'm not beside Louis.

"Shouldn't they be watching you play or something?" Sam chuckles and I try to think of questions I can ask Louis so Sam doesn't force me out of Louis' conversation.

"They're coming to the tournament to watch." He says. "It took a lot of convincing because they obviously have other people to see, but I got them to talk to a lot of people who have watched me and apparently their comments have been enough for them to come back."

"Well didn't they see the videos of you playing last year?" Sam asks and I can't come up with anything to interject with, but I don't want to let Sam make this shittier.

"Videos? From what?" I asks and Louis diverts his attention from Sam to me. I selfishly feel accomplished.

"From Pornhub." Louis answers, his face as serious as someone can be talking about this.

I roll my eyes and shake my head laughing.

I expect his arm to be swatted by Amanda's hand, her hard eyes shooting towards him like bullets. She's nowhere at the table and I'm thankful.

"I'm serious." I chuckle, and he nods.

"Me too." He goes on, and I pretend I'm not listening. "I did some stuff last year. In was only a few times, but I was quite popular after that."

He's smirking at me and I nod, playing along. I know my cheeks are red at the image of him like that, but let him joke around so I keep smiling.

"You sure you haven't seen me?" He asks, and my eyes widen, shocked at how utterly okay he is talking about this.

"You're going to drive me mad one day." I shake my head, hearing chuckles from his friends and think they don't care until I look at Sam, who just finished speaking to Trent. They both look in complete disapproval and I expect Louis to go silent when he notices them.

He doesn't.

He keeps laughing before actually talking about how a photography class filmed their practices and playing a tournament last year for some documentary project. They posted it online and Louis wasn't shy about admitting how many people have watched his section.

Lunch ends too quickly. The laughter of everyone is so different that it goes by faster than usual, but Sam stays quiet, judging Louis and I silently. I wonder if he knows and I panic, but he doesn't say anything so I only hope Louis talked to him about it and he's going to drop the subject for now.

After school Louis asks if I could come over to his house, and I don't know why he looks like he's expecting me to say no.

"What about the interview?" I wonder, closing my locker door.

"It's not for another forty five minutes." He tells me, looking down at the clock on his mobile. "It's just-"

He lowers his voice so the people around us grabbing their books can't hear.

I start walking so he can talk with less stress around.

"I wasn't joking about being nervous and I know I'm probably being stupid because I'm a cocky bastard and know I'm awesome at talking to people and convincing them I'm great." He says, smiling up at me. "But I want this a lot and I'm scared shitless and I know you're understanding and my dad is kind of being overly obsessive about this so it'll be nice to have you around for a while."

He talks quickly, almost blabbering on like he's about to beg for me to come by for a while.

"I'll come over until you have to leave," I tell him. "Is your dad going to be home?"

He sighs, chest swelling as he inhales, and deflating like a full balloon.

"Yeah," he says. "And he's probably going to be uptight, but whatever. I'm sure if this goes to shit they'll still see me play, and hopefully that'll be enough for them."

"You have nothing to worry about," I assure. We step outside and the icy wind bites at our cheeks until they're red and stiff. "I'll follow you there, okay?"

He nods and we get into our separate vehicles. There's a sense of reassurance in the way he needs me like I need him. I want him around when there's needles in my lungs. He uses them to stitch me back together when I can't even thread a single string through the eye.

"Come to the back garden, I want to show you something," he tells me, reaching out for both of my hands. I grin widely, sliding my stiff fingers between his.

My eyes scan the windows for his dad, but I don't see an angry face about to condemn us to hell so I pull Louis closer to me.

"What is it?" I ask, circling around the corner of the house where there's a shed with a padlock, two silver rubbish bins with a small football meeting the frosty grass. "It's cold Lou, what are we doing?"

He smiles, dropping my cold hands and says, "This is the very first football I ever owned," then picks the half-frozen ball up.

It's got some missing leather patches and clumps of mud attached to it, very stained and very well-used.

"I got it when I was five," he says, dropping it to the ground. He rolls it towards him with his foot before doing three kick-ups, then stops.

"And it's still intact?" I chuckle, and he nods proudly, pulling apart the bins so there's a gap in between.

"This would be my net and I'd kick the ball in there, thinking I was the best player around," he says, his smile reminiscing on his innocence.

"And look how far you've come." I joke and he laughs, taking a few steps back with the ball between his agile feet.

"Play with me," he says and I scoff, keeping my arms around my body to preserve the little warmth I have.

"Absolutely not." I deny, keeping away because I know I'd just embarrass myself. "I'll observe from a moderate distance."

He sighs, then looks towards the bins again saying, "Then I'll have to get this in perfectly myself, won't I?"

"Perfectly?" I wonder, watching him place his hands on his curvy hips.

"I refuse to do it any other way." He presses confidently.

"Well I have no doubt. The goalkeeper doesn't look too energetic today." I nudge my chin towards the makeshift and not-so-professional net.

"I'm grateful for your belief in me."

I'm grateful for how big this little distraction is.

"I always will," I assure, sliding my hands in my pockets only to realise the fabric I wear is as cold as the air. "But hurry it up, superstar. I'm freezing my arse off."

He chuckles and nods, a wispy cloud of grey blowing from his mouth as he exhales, "Fine, fine."

He begins playing the ball, making his way to the "net."

"Louis Tomlinson makes his way past the non-existent players with ease-" he pretends to dart around people, dribbling the ball from side to side. There's a smug grin on his face and I don't think I'll ever hate his smile. "- He lines up the shot, gets it past the also non-existent goaltender and scores the winning point of the entire season!" His hands are thrown in the air after sending the ball between the silver bins. "And the crowd goes wild!" He shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth to make the noise of thousands of fans I know he'll have someday.

I laugh when he pumps his fists, then he jogs over to me and strings his arms around my neck. He almost takes me down and I grip onto his hips so I don't fall.

"Well Louis Tomlinson," I begin, smirking down at him. "What are you going to do after this amazing win?"

"You." He winks and presses his mouth to my red cheeks. My eyes widen at his joke and my body goes warm even if it's freezing outside. I never imagined he'd think of me like that, and even if he's joking my stomach still flips when I picture him wanting me and breathing against my bare skin and pressing his hands against my bod.

"Not quite appropriate for live television," I comment, trying to keep my shyness to a minimum. "We've got children watching."

"So you wouldn't like it if I kissed you right now?" He wonders, and I can smell his minty breath rolling off his tongue.

"We can cut it out," I say and he laughs into my mouth, burying his fingers in my hair as our lips graze delicately. We probably look beautiful like this, pressed and tangled together in some lovely chaotic mess. We'd burst with colour compared to the frost around us and on the ground and the grey skies above our heads. His lips move skillfully across mine, applying the right amounts of pressure and even if our skin is cold we're somehow emitting a warmth that's enough to start a fire in my stomach. My body tingles, and we kiss for so long my hands go numb but my lips aren't stiff anymore.

"You better be around in a few years when we'll actually have thousands of people around." He says, and the small fact that he sees me around in such a long time from now crumbles the questions I had about him wanting to leave me.

"If I feel like it." I joke, kissing the tip of his Rudolph nose.

"Arsehole..." He mutters, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile as he kisses me again.

"I'm going to freeze if we don't go inside," I tell him, and he nods in agreement, looking down at our red hands.

We walk into his house, and the sudden change in temperature covers me in goosebumps. Our boots are taken off and I don't see Louis' dad around even if I expect to run into him before I leave. We jog up to his bedroom, closing and locking the door before lying on his bed together. Louis pulls his knees up to drape his leg across mine, his head resting on my shoulder with his fringe tickling my collarbones. I keep my arms around him, breathing deeply as we let our body heat seep into our muscles. I could hold him like this for the rest of my life if he would let me.

"I don't want to go anywhere," Louis mumbles, looking up at me.

I kiss the top of his head, rubbing his shoulders.

"Why?" I ask, keeping him close. I don't want him to question how good he is.

"Because other people are going to be on the team that have been playing longer. They grew up in cities with professional coaches and they're going to be better than me." His fingers play with the buttons on my shirt and I run my fingers up and down his back. "I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't play football."

"Louis, you don't need me to tell you that you're amazing." I say, my hands running up to touch the exposed skin above the collar of his shirt. "You obviously have a talent and if these people are idiotic enough to not want you on their team, another coach from another school is going to want you."

He sighs, biting the inside of his cheek as he looks over at me.

"Tell me again how stupid I'm being again so I can find the courage to get dressed." He says with a chuckle and I grin, kissing him briefly so I don't get distracted.

"You're being stupid," I repeat, smiling at the words that shouldn't be encouraging. "Now you need to get dressed or you'll be late and make a bad first impression."

He groans and strides over his closet, already beginning to take his uniform off.

I feel like I should look away even if I don't want to. He's completely comfortable with his body and gets down to his underwear right in front of me, and I find myself still staring.

"You know I'm dressing up in sparkly shorts to hand out the Valentine's Day things," He says, tossing his trousers in his hamper.

I can't _not_ look at his body while he reaches for his new clothes - a navy suit that looks smooth to the touch, probably tailored to his exact size so he can look his absolute best. He'd look his absolute best even if it was too big or too small.

"Sparkly shorts?" I ask, smiling and trying to find the right words. "The school is allowing that?"

He looks through his closet for a top to go under his jacket, his weight shifted onto one leg. He looks in the mirror, trying to figure out what he wants to wear.

"Yeah, it's the one day they'll actually let us go without the uniforms."

His black pants hug the tops of his thighs and bum, and my eyes glance along his back muscles and the scattered tattoos he has along his arms. His skin is smooth all over and I have the strong desire to touch him and teach myself the way every inch of his body feels beneath the palm of my hand. He eyes look at me through the mirror and grins, turning around. I'm blushing as he hangs up the shirts again then walks in my direction.

I stare at his smirking face and he moves between my legs, cupping my jaw.

"What should I wear?" He asks, running his fingertips across my forehead.

It takes all the strength in the world look at only his eyes.

"I - uh - the lighter blue one," I say, and he chuckles, running his hands down to my shoulders. It's hard to think like this and I'm going to keep stumbling over my words until I don't look at him anymore, but I don't want to stop looking at him.

"But the suit is blue," he comments, and I know he's trying to distract me and make me lose all my words, and it's definitely working.

"Uh..." I clear my throat and try to pay better attention. "But if you wear the white one it'll look more black and formal."

He smiles and say in a quiet voice, "You're allowed to look at me, you know."

I swallow hard, nodding even if I'm still staring at his face.

He laughs again, playing with the loose ends of my hair.

"I really hope I'm not that ugly," he says, still smiling.

"God, no." I laugh, shaking my head. If anyone thought he was ugly they'd have to be blind. Hell, I'm pretty sure the blind could even tell how goddamn beautiful he is.

"Then why are you only staring at my face?"

I shrug, dropping my head and laughing to myself with my forehead against his stomach. I close my eyes and keep blushing, completely embarrassed.

"Because you're half naked right in front of me," I say, and his runs his fingers through my hair.

"I'm very comfortable with myself, and even more comfortable with you," he points out the obvious and I look back up at him, sighing.

"I can see that," I say, keep my hands on my thighs, squeezing so they don't go anywhere else.

"Can you?" He laughs loudly and I don't know what to do with myself while he's so close.

"I feel like I just... Shouldn't or something. I don't know." I laugh, burying my face in my hands. I've never been so embarrassed, but he deserves to be every bit as confident as he is. The whole world should be able to witness something this amazing, but I'm glad I'm the only one he lets this close.

"I'm super hot so you might as well take advantage of it." He tells me, taking a step back.

He flaunts his body dramatically, spinning in a circle to let me observe every curve and angle.

I have to force myself to think it's okay. After years of changing in locker rooms and avoiding the bodies around me, my stomach twists while my eyes are finally allowed to look at the smoothness of his skin and his toned stomach. I look at the curve of his thick thighs and the bulge in his pants and admire every inch of him and almost feel relief as I absorb as much of him as I can.

I groan and fall onto my back, my face blushing again. I cover my face and laugh, shaking my head.

"You're so..." I don't know the word but I need it to be exact because he deserves that much thought. He deserves the rest of the thoughts I have for the rest of my life.

"I'm so what?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he looks down at himself.

"Alluring," I tell him, turning on my side to look at him again. "Captivating. So many things and I can't think of it all."

"Impressive language you've got there." He chuckles, finally beginning to get dressed.

"Thank you," I say, letting myself watch him as he continues to pull clothing over his body. "So what else are you doing for this Valentine-O-Grams?"

He buttons up his shirt, grinning.

"You'll find out."

I roll my eyes and continue to watch him get dressed, until he's pushing the last bit of time he has to get to the interview.

We go downstairs, where his dad is waiting. He's got the familiar distant expression, but even if he was laughing and smiling I'd still be intimidated.

"You know you have to be there in fifteen minutes?" He says to Louis, his eyes flickering over to me. I don't think I've ever really talked around him.

"Yeah, I'm heading over right now." Louis says with a nod. His dad barely acknowledges me.

"Okay, remember to tell them how hard you're willing to work." Louis nods automatically. "And make sure they know how much you've been practising. They want people that are committed and they won't need someone on the team that isn't obligated to work hard."

Louis nods again and I awkwardly rock back on my heels as I wait for them.

"I'll tell them." Louis agrees and Troy gives him a firm pat on the shoulder before letting us walk outside.

"You're going to do great," I tell him, wishing I could give him one last hug before he goes. His dad could be anywhere and I can't imagine what he'll do if he sees us.

"Thank you," He says, smiling softly. "Pretend I'm giving you a kiss goodbye."

I chuckle and nod, opening my car door.

"Ring me when you get home," I say and he nods, getting in his own vehicle.

I drive home with thoughts of purely Louis, not worried or concerned with anything else.

I don't care about the pills anymore because things are too good right now. I don't know if that's because of the prescription or it's just Louis, but either way I'm not complaining. I'd rather be smiling when I drive home than let myself cry alone, and I sure as hell don't want to be sad when Louis is around because I should always be happy with him. I don't want him thinking I've changed and I'm not a happy person, or he'll want to leave me. No one wants to stay with someone that can't be happy.

We've been having so many good days I keep praying that neither of us do anything to mess it up again. I don't want to be stupid with him and I want to take it as slow as I can even if it feels like we're already moving at the speed of light.

I get home and lie on my bed smiling until my fingers itch, then take out the journal Louis gave me.

_Paper Planes by Marcel Styles_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't completely abandoned this... I feel so bad for anyone who was consistently reading this I kind of just forgot about it during school and didn't have time and I was doing lots this summer, but hopefully I actually finish the story!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This story is going to be extremely long, so please prepare for the chapters that might seem endless. It's for the readers that never want the larry fanfics to end.


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